


The Choice

by ladyvenoms



Category: Nagron - Fandom, Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:51:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 81,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1530326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyvenoms/pseuds/ladyvenoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron and Nasir find themselves pulled apart in the midst of war. While straddling the lines between life and death, the afterlife or immortality, what choices will they have to make in order to be together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at Spartacus canon...somewhat. Of course I have to mix things up a bit so I added VAMPIRES!! This should be very interesting.

The wind blew harder as it carried the raucous voices of the swelling crowds as well as the smells of unwashed bodies, horses and urine. The volume ebbed and flowed with the breeze and Nasir felt as if his ears would burst with the noise. Each day more and more strangers flowed into the rebel camp as Spartacus and his forces pushed further south. As he did, the Roman legion remained in close pursuit. Skirmishes between the rebels and the army were breaking out almost daily. The rebels knew they could not continue on their present course. Their following was becoming too large and winter was coming. Already resources were becoming scarce; space was limited as tents and people and animals were literally sitting atop of one another.

He nearly lost Lugo, the giant Germanic lieutenant  in the crowd as he made his way to the area where they were training new recruits. As he attempted to break through a line that had formed where food was being passed around from large boiling pot, he heard more loud shouts. A man with hair so filthy it was grey, a ragged beard and tattered clothes was shouting at a young boy. Nasir paused and Lugo walked completely out of sight as he watched the man become more aggressive towards the boy.

“You fucking little shit! You will wait your turn like everyone else!” The man screamed.

“The boy is hungry,” another man stepped up as he interjected. “Let him go ahead of you.”

“No,” the man growled. “I have crawled and snaked through mud and muck for days without food and drink. I will not be denied opportunity to slake my thirst and feed my hunger for the benefit of some bastard child. Move aside!” He pushed the other man away and attempted to grab the child.

Nasir caught the man by the wrist and twisted it until the other cried out in pain. “Still yourself, there is enough to go around for all. Let the child through.” He did not loosen his grip nor did he decrease the intensity of his stare. The man saw the scar that trailed down Nasir’s right eye. He also noticed the leather arm gauntlets and the short sword that was attached to his side. The man surmised that Nair was a warrior and more than capable of causing him great harm. He lowered his gaze and Nasir loosened his grip.

“Go to end of the line.” Nasir said steadily. The man hung his head and skulked away. Nasir then turned his attention the young boy who was looking at him with a mixture of fear and admiration. He had never seen anyone quite like the man that stood before him. He was short but solidly built, with long dark hair that was tied away from his face with a black ribbon. He was dressed in various pieces of leather and fabric that failed to cover the cuts and scars that decorated his body. Around his neck hung a necklace of phalluses and his feet were clad in light leather boots. The boy knew that the he may have only been a few years older than he, but he had seen more blood and horror to fill ten thousand lifetimes.

He said, “Gratitude dominus.”

Nasir furrowed his brow. “I’m no one’s dominus, much less yours. My name is Nasir.” He touched the boy on his shoulder. “Let us go and get you a bowl of food.” With his hand still on the boy, he guided him to the front of the line. There, a stout woman who was ladling out the horse meat stew from a huge, black cauldron propped up by thick, gigantic black sticks. She gave them both a look of disdain until she saw Nasir’s sword. She then filled a bowl with and handed it to him along with a hunk of hard bread. Nasir in turn gave it to the boy. “Here you are young one. Eat and enjoy.”

The boy took the bowl and sipped the hot concoction with relish. As Nasir watched the boy eat he could not help but reminded of himself as he was not so long ago. “What are you called?”

“My name is Plannis.” The boy replied between bites of bread.

“Where are you from? Have you no father or mother?” He asked as he looked more closely at the boy. He seemed to be reasonably taken care of. His clothing was threadbare but somewhat clean. He was thin but he didn't look starved. His brown eyes were clear and he seemed to be in possession of all of his faculties. He guessed the child to be no more than ten years old.

“My mother and father are dead for near a season and half or so. I used to live in Capua. We had a house where the chickens would walk to the door and awaken us at dawn. I would throw seed at them from the window. We had goats and a horse too.” The boy recalled, smiling at the memory. His face fell suddenly, “Then one day, there were men at our door at dawn. They broke their swords upon it and rushed in. My mother told me to jump out of the window and run as fast as I could. I did and I hid under a big pile of straw. I heard my father and mother screaming but I stayed until they went away. I called for them but they never answered. I was afraid to go back inside our home. I did not know what I would find.”

Nasir who was fully aware of the death and destruction that had taken over Capua within the last year dared himself to ask the boy, “Who were these men? Did you see them?”

Plannis shook his head. He seemed so lost in his remembrance of past terrors, that his food was momentarily forgotten. “I saw them not,” he said dully. “All that I heard was, ‘did you aid the rebels’? I cannot recall any answer given.”

He went to stand nearer to Plannis who was by that time staring into his bowl. “You made it here from Capua all on your own. You are a much braver and a more resourceful man than I.” he told the youngster.

“Oh, I am no longer alone.” Plannis said. “My aunt looks after me now.”

Nasir briefly scanned the crowd. “Is she near? Does she need food as well?”

“No, she is resting. She will eat later.” The boy replied.

Nasir placed his hand upon Plannis’ shoulder once more. “Take care of yourself, Plannis. If you need anything else, just look for me.”

The boy finally smiled again. “Gratitude, Nasir. Since you have helped me, I should help you now.”

“What is your meaning?” Nasir asked.

Plannis gestured to two men who were standing in line near them for food. “Those two men over there are Roman scouts. They have been in the rebel camp for at least two days.”

Nasir was shocked and whirled around to see which two men the boy was pointing to, “How do you know this?”

“I heard them talking as I followed them from the piss pit. They are Cossinius’ men sent to trail the rebels and report on their activities.”

Nasir glared at Plannis and was struck by the boy’s assured manner. He no longer looked as a child. He wanted to know exactly how he came by this information. He took the boy by both his shoulders. “Plannis,” he began. “Is what you are telling me the truth? Lives could needlessly be lost if what leaves your lips proves to be false!”

Plannis began to object at once. “I speak no lies. All that I have told is what I have heard.”

Nasir then looked at men more closely. They wore cloaks to cover their features and spoke to one another in low tones. He noticed that both men were tall. Both pairs of legs that peeked through their long cloaks were muscular; as if they were made that way from long riding upon horses. They both stood upright, much unlike the bent and bowed carriages of those who had spent their lives in servitude.

“You need to go now, Plannis. Find someplace safe.” He told the boy.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Nasir asked and unsheathed his sword. “Go, now.”

Plannis took one last look at Nasir and hurried away. Nasir saw that Lugo had retraced his path and seemed to be looking for him among the crowd. He carefully trudged down the slow moving line, never really taking his attention away from the two men to reach Lugo. Once he did, he held up his sword and exhorted the other man not to speak.

“Listen to me carefully Lugo. Do not move to strike until I am finished.”

Lugo looked utterly perplexed and ignored the directive, “Where did you go? We have to train the others. Why is sword out, do you want fight me instead?”

“Close fucking mouth!” Nasir whispered fiercely. “There are two Romans standing in this line as we speak. They are scouts, sent by Cossinius. They have been here for days. We have to capture them and take them to Spartacus.”

Lugo began to snort like an angry bull as soon as heard, ‘Romans’. “Fucking cunts. We kill them both!”

“Did you not hear what I just said? We will not kill them, we will take them to Spartacus.” He cried and hit Lugo in the chest.

“Why? Kill them now before more come.” Lugo reasoned.

“They may die anyway but not before we find out what they have told Cossinius AND what the Romans have planned for us. They may very well know.” Nasir argued.

Lugo shifted his eyes and then nodded. “We seize them, take them to Spartacus and then kill them.”

“Good plan, Lugo.” Nasir said drolly. “You take that side. I will take the other. They are the two tall men wearing the grey and brown cloaks.” He continued as he indicated the two tall figures in the line. They had to move quickly as they were very near the woman who was dispersing the food. He began to move back down the line on his side and Lugo followed on the other side. Their weapons were drawn and the refugees left in their wake started to become nervous and wondered amongst themselves if a scuffle was about to break out.

Once Nasir was near the shoulder of the man on his right, he whistled. The man suddenly turned and Nasir asked, “You have not been waiting too long have you?”

The man was about to give a scathing response until he saw the glint of Nasir’s broadsword reflected in the afternoon sun. He turned to run, but Nasir caught him by his cloak and pulled him back. The man’s companion was about to reach under his cloak in order to draw his own sword. He did not notice Lugo bearing upon his left until he felt the handle of Lugo’s hammer crash into the back of his skull. Nasir’s opponent meanwhile, jerked from Nasir’s grasp and attempted to swing a punch. Nasir ducked in time and stuck his leg out, sweeping the other man’s feet from under him. He landed heavily on his back. Nasir was upon him at once and cracked his fist against the man’s jaw rendering him unconscious. While all this was going on, the people in the food line scrambled away, screaming. The rancor attracted the attention of some rebel forces standing by and they rushed to the scene. What the saw was Nasir and Lugo standing over two prone men. When Nasir noticed them approaching, he told them. “Tell Spartacus we have been infiltrated.”

*****

Although it was the middle of autumn, the days were still hot and stifling. The nights however had already begun to bring the cool bite of the upcoming winter with the darkness. Agron found himself sitting on a wooden box near an open fire wrapped in his cloak as more nights like those passed. This particular night he was joined by Gannicus and he went over the day’s events with him. Nothing had prepared any of them for Nasir and Lugo dragging two men into Spartacus’ tent who turned out to be spies for the Praetor Cossinius. What they were able to extract from the men after a bit of hard persuasion unsettled them even further. The legion had planned to form together under a new Praetor in the southeast to engage in a major assault against Spartacus’ army. It was the very thing the rebels were trying to prevent from happening. Their success in the past months had been due to their ability to divide and scatter the Roman forces. Spartacus knew full well that at this point they could ill afford to fight a full out war with Rome. They did not have enough fighting men. They did not have well established supply lines. The camps were swarming with women and children and worst of all, winter was on its way. They needed to find a place where there would be enough food and shelter to last through the season. These were critical times and the decisions made could affect thousands of lives.

“You still have not given thought to Spartacus’ plan to move our base to a more secure location.” Agron stated.

Gannicus shrugged and took another swig of wine from the jug he held. “Why do you need to hear my thoughts? Are not my swords what you need the most?” He asked.

“Your swords will be of little use against the chill of winter and the cries of empty stomachs!” Agron cried.

Nasir had approached by then carrying his own jug of wine. He felt that downing a few drinks himself would calm him from the alarming news that the newly gone to grass Roman scouts had provided. “Let us not lose ourselves to despair just yet. There may be a place to be found for all of us.” He sat on the ground beside Agron and felt his lover lightly run his hand against his back.

“Yes,” Gannicus slurred. “I will follow Nasir’s words and take myself to warmer climes.” He peered over at Agron who was scowling at him. “And more pleasant company,” He said as he stood up rather unsteadily.

Agron was exasperated. “Gannicus, you know that Spartacus sees you more than just a foot soldier.”

“That is all he needs to see me as. I have no grander plan than to see another sunrise. I will leave strategies and schemes to those who dare to think further.” He raised his jug to them and staggered off to his tent where he hoped to find a willing and ready Saxa. He and the blonde German warrior had been lovers for months. He was thrilled to find a woman who finally matched his own appetites for drinking, fighting and fucking. She was one of the few reasons he had remained with the rebels, although he had never bothered to tell her. He did not want to change the dynamic of their relationship by letting her know exactly how much she had come to mean to him.

Nasir took a deep drink and then passed the jug to Agron who had already helped Gannicus finish nearly half of his. He saw no point in refusing more wine and drank again. Nasir said nothing as he heard Agron gulp down the wine. He knew his man was consumed with thoughts on what their next move should be. The rebels faced insurmountable odds. He had always known that. But with armies heading them off at all sides and thousands of lives of ex-slaves in their care, he did not know if they would win. For the first time in a very long while, Nasir was overtaken with doubt.

He let out a long breath and ignored the wine jug being offered back to him by Agron. He had lost his desire to drink suddenly. He gazed beyond the fire that blazed near his feet. He couldn't quite make out the two shadows that were moving towards him. He tilted his head to his right side for a better look and saw that it was a child and an adult. Agron saw them as well and stiffened. He began to sit up straighter and narrowed his eyes as they approached.

“Who is there?” he called out.

The child who seemed to be pulling the adult along called back, “Nasir! Nasir! It’s Plannis.”

Nasir then stood up and greeted the child. “It is indeed you. The hero of the day!” He quirked his eyebrow as he smiled.

Plannis was briefly overtaken by a fit of shyness. He looked away as he said, “I did nothing. I merely pointed out the two men.”

“Two men who you knew to be spies and you were correct. Your open ears could very well save us all.” Nasir said bracingly. “You have our gratitude. I should find Spartacus so that he may extend his own to you.”

Plannis looked positively embarrassed at the thought of meeting the great rebel leader and shook his head. “No, please do not bother him. I did not come for gratitude. I wanted you to meet my aunt.”

Nasir noticed the woman who was standing slightly behind Plannis and who had not spoken. In the circle of the firelight, he saw her golden eyes and brown hair.

“Greetings,” Nasir bowed his slightly. “As you have heard, my name is Nasir. Plannis told me some of how he came to end up here. I am comforted to know that he has someone to see after him. Many children are not so fortunate in this time of war.”

She inclined her head. “Plannis has said much today it seems.” The woman said. Her voice was deep as if it lingered in a faraway place within her throat. He had never heard such a timbre from a woman before. “My name is Pandora.”

Agron had stood up by that time to survey the two individuals that stood before him and his lover. The child seemed normal enough, but the woman... There was something very different about her. Even in the light of the fire, she seemed to emit her own glow. Her skin was pale and flawless from what he could tell, but her eyes were cold and she did not blink.

“Agron, this is the young man I spoke about earlier. He is the one who told me about the scouts. And she is his aunt, Pandora.” Agron inclined his head ever so slightly but did not speak. Nasir gestured to Pandora, “Would you care for a drink?”

She shook her head. “No. Wine is not to my liking.”

“Your nephew is quite observant. He looks able and healthy too. He could prove useful.” Agron said.

“I could be a soldier?” Plannis asked excitedly.

Nasir broke in, “Not quite yet.” He glared at Agron. “You will need to train for quite a while.”

“Could I start in the morning?”

“I was not finished. You will also need to be a bit older and taller.” Nasir said gently.

Pandora placed a hand on Plannis’ shoulder. “You should not concern yourself with getting involved in this war. We have discussed this. You need to stay safe when I am not around.” Plannis lowered his head.

“You should listen to your aunt. We will do what we can to help you stay safe until this conflict is over.” Nasir said.

“ _Or until we all die.”_ Agron thought.

Pandora had heard his thought and gazed at him for several seconds. “We will keep you no further. There are other things we must attend to. Good evening to you both.” She turned to go but Plannis lingered.

“Will I see you again sometime?” he asked Nasir.

“Yes. I told you; seek me out if you need anything.”

“Plannis,” Pandora called. The boy turned away slowly and followed the woman. She held out her hand and he took it, rather reluctantly.

“Strange one, she was.” Agron quipped as he turned, picked up the jar of wine and continued to drink.

“Perhaps, but do we need to start recruiting for the front line so young?” Nasir teased.

“With the state of our army, it may come to pass that we will have to.”

*****

“Why are you sad, young one?” Pandora asked as she and Plannis walked hand in hand around the camp.

The boy didn’t answer right away but continued to scuff his feet into the grass. “I do not know. I just thought that if you saw Nasir that you would…”

She shook her head, “There will come a time when that decision will be made. It will not be tonight, though.” She saw that Plannis was crestfallen.

“You are quite taken with him.” She said.

“I do not want anything to happen to him. I do not want him to die.” He argued.

“It will have to be his choice, Plannis.”

“So you do think he will be good?”

“Yes, I will tell the others he has been claimed and that they are not to go after him.”

Plannis looked pleased finally.

“But remember, as I just said it has to be his choice. If not, he WILL die.” She warned.

*****

As much as Agron had drunk earlier, he felt no effects from the wine. He was quite lucid when he requested that Nasir disrobe slowly in front of him so that he could watch the waning lights from the lamps inside their tent dance upon his golden skin. He was completely in control as he entered his lover and thrust again and again until Nasir gasped and shuddered. He remembered every touch and kiss placed upon him as Nasir, satiated and satisfied fell to slumber beside him.

He let his hands pull through the cool waves of Nasir’s hair as he slept. He then let the strands fall against his back. Nasir only wore his hair loose around Agron and he considered it a special privilege to be allowed to touch it. It was the color of liquid obsidian; it was thick and shone gloriously in the sun. He often caught women and a few men look upon it with jealously from time to time. He smirked a little as he twined a strand through his fingers. If only his main concern was over a few looks of displeasure. He knew that at any time, Nasir could be taken away from him. Or worse yet, he could be captured and killed without ever knowing the fate of his lover. As he lay in the late darkness, he began to mull over such things as fate, inevitability and hopelessness. He could not imagine his life without Nasir.  Even if the rebels burned the Roman empire to ashes, what kind of victory would it be without his love there with him?


	2. The First Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle with Cossinius' army results in tragedy and Agron makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated on whether or not to put a bow in Saxa's hand considering she was never all that enthusiastic about archery lessons. But I like to think as a tribute to Mira, she finally learned to shoot some arrows, even if she doesn't really hit anything.

The following day, Spartacus, Naevia, Gannicus and Crixus ambushed a small garrison of Romans and managed to intercept a message to the Praetor. Unfortunately, the message affirmed everything the scouts that had been caught earlier had told them. It seemed that Rome planned to send out its mightiest command to quash the rebel army which was to be financed and joined by none other than Marcus Crassus, the wealthiest man in the capitol. To push the proverbial sword further in, they found out from their own scouts that Pompey, the adolescent butcher had just arrived back from his bloody campaign in Hispania. If they failed to act, they would be trapped by Crassus’ well financed army from the south and east and Pompey’s battle hardened forces from the west and north. Agron and Nasir barely saw one another as Agron spent hours within Spartacus’ tent arguing with the Crixus and a reluctant Gannicus over the best course of action, while Nasir oversaw the distribution of weapons and horses with the other lieutenants.

There was no time to touch or even talk as the preparations for the impending final battle overshadowed everything. They would fall into bed late into the night completely exhausted and wake before the last crow of the cock. Each was never far from the other’s mind, though. Agron noticed that Nasir had found time to sharpen and polish his favorite dagger. Nasir discovered that Agron had managed to acquire a brass arm band for him. He was actually admiring it inside the tent they shared when Agron stormed inside. He was in quite a state; so much so he did not bother to greet Nasir. He just began to pace and pull at his chin anxiously.

“What is it?” Nasir asked.

Agron paused in mid-stride. “Spartacus asked me to lead our forces and all others out of the camp, tonight.”

Nasir exclaimed, “What?”

“Spartacus hopes to draw what is left of Cossinius’ army out and away from their base.” Agron said. “While that is happening, he with Gannicus and Crixus will ambush the Praetor and his tribune. If all falls to plan, the army will scatter at the sight of their leader’s heads thrust upon spikes.”

“We are to fight an army of thousands with our numbers?” Nasir was incredulous. After days and nights huddled together that was the best plan they all had come up with?

“Yes, we may have to.” Agron replied. Nasir could hear the trepidation in his tone. “We will need to gather our belongings quickly and take only what is needed. We must travel quite a distance if we are to meet the legion on the field of battle.”

“What of the women, the children and the old? What becomes of them if we fall? What if Spartacus and the others fail to kill Cossinius and his tribune?” Nasir demanded.

Agron’s only answer was, “Let us hope they will not fail, nor that our swords break against Roman shields.”

*****

Nemetes had finished a most satisfying pissing session when he saw the beacons in the distance. They were near the coast and the jagged seaside cliffs that lined the path to their temporary camp provided excellent vantage points. The number of lighted torches grew and Nemetes turned and ran towards the group of scouts that had settled near a cave on the outskirts of camp.

He bounded down the rocky path, nearly slipping on the loose pebbles. He began to cry out as he drew closer. “They are coming! Cossinius’ army is marching towards us!”

Donar, another one of Agron’s captains dropped the skewer of goat meat he held over the fire and ran to the frantic looking blonde man. “How far away?” He asked.

“No more than three leagues.” Nemetes grunted out, trying to catch his breath. At hearing that, Donar turned and shouted to the woman who had been sitting at the fireside with him. "Saxa, send the signal!” She jerked her head and grabbed a bow and arrow that had its tip wrapped with an oil soaked rag. She stuck the tip into the fire until it lit, nocked the arrow and drew the bow. The burning arrow cut through the dusky sky and with its descent. When it was spotted, the camp inhabitants began to stir.

Agron began to call out assignments immediately after he was alerted of the signal. “Naevia, take your men and cover the left side. Lugo, take your people to the right. I will take the center.”  He pushed through the crowd of warriors readying themselves for the battle shouting, “Nasir! Nasir!”

He heard Agron and hurried to him. “Where are we going?”

Agron grabbed his shoulder, “You stay with the last garrison and protect the camp.”

Nasir began to object, “I am to fight by your side!”

Agron dug his fingers into his flesh. “If we perish, you stand as the last line of defense. You have to protect these people and lead them if you have to.”

Nasir wanted to argue more but he could not counter Agron’s reasoning. Plus, there was no more time for debate. Now was the time to fight. Agron had already disappeared into the rushing crowd. Nasir grimaced and fought the urge to follow him. An eerie sense of foreboding had gripped his insides. He felt as if nothing would go to plan that night. He began to be pushed roughly by the swelling crowd and retreated back to the entrance of the camp with the rest of his men. When he reached them, he found utter chaos as those who had been left behind at the camp were attempting to flee. Even as he pushed back, yelled, and literally threw people around, he could not blame them for their fear. Fire and death seemed to be closing in at all sides and their only protection was a rag tag group of a few hundred rebel fighters. He gripped his long spear tightly, held his breath and waited for whatever the underworld chose to bring.

****

Agron could hear the squelch of flesh as his sword pierced through the leather breastplate of the Roman in front him. With a mighty roar, Agron threw him off and pressed on. He swung and thrust until his arms were slick with warm blood of his foes. The hard ground began to be covered with dead bodies. Screams rent through the air as life was ripped from Roman and rebel alike. Then, a series of shouts from beyond caused both lines to pause briefly. Two horses cut a wide path through the throng. Astride them were a pair of headless bodies and tied to the saddles were the heads of Cossinius and his tribune. The rebels raised their weapons and cheered lustily at the sight. They knew that it meant that Spartacus, Gannicus and Crixus had been successful.

The Romans on the other hand were filled with fright and despair and began a hasty retreat. Agron commanded his forces to fall back and allow their enemies to depart. It was pointless to have them follow the Romans over the dark cliffs. He would not have believed it if he had not seen it for himself. The rebels had won yet another battle. He laughed and began to guide his men back down the path to join Naevia and Lugo.

*****

Nasir’s attention had been held rapt as the battle raged just outside the borders of the camp. He heard a swell of shouts from the center and then if had not been mistaken…cheers. Did that mean that the rebels had won? He remained rooted to the spot. As much as he had wanted to join Agron, he was aware that his real responsibility lay with the others in the camp. Suddenly, a tall Nubian woman with a spear much like Nasir’s ran towards the front line. She was shouting something.

“What does she say?” Nasir asked the man standing beside him.

“I do not know. There is too much clamor to hear clearly.” The man answered.

Nasir pushed through the line and ran towards the woman, by the time he had reached her, a small crowd had gathered around her. She was gulping for air as she tried to speak. “The Romans have broken through the east line! They are…heading towards the camp!” The rest of the crowd shouted and cursed.

He screamed, “SILENCE!” After they quieted a bit, he went on. “We will lead a line to aid those fighting with Lugo. The rest will stay and protect the entrance to the camp.”

“What can we possibly do? The Romans have broken our ranks!” Someone shouted at him.

“Delay them at the least. They must not reach the camp!” He shouted back. “Who is with me?”

A few of the hardiest looking fighters gathered around him. “There is one path that leads directly to the camp from the east. We must draw them to it and cut them off as they try to pass us. It is through that ridge there,” He continued pointing to jagged cliff side to his left. “Cut them, slice them, or throw them off the side but do NOT allow them to get through. Let us depart!” He hoisted his spear and ran towards the cliff with the others following close at his heels.

While they clambered up the cliffs, they could hear the clanging of metal and the yells of the injured and dying. Nasir thought he saw a body fall past him but he was too preoccupied with making sure his footing was secure to be certain. He was soon met with the first wave of resistance and the others that joined him fought them off fiercely. They were able to make to the ridge and Nasir saw Lugo fighting valiantly with an arrow jutting from his shoulder blade.

“Attack!” He bellowed and the rest of the fighters climbed over the ridge, the Romans who attempted to stop them were thrown to their deaths. Nasir parried a sword strike from a centurion but before he could counter with a strike of his own, the man was swept over the cliff, screaming on his way down. Nasir felt a presence pass through him. It felt more solid than shadow but it was swifter than the wind. He turned on the spot trying to ascertain what it was and did not heed the approaching figure coming from his left.

There was a burning sensation at his side as the blade tore into his flesh. He grunted as backed away to keep his attacker from pushing the sword further in. he gathered his spear and thrust it right into the throat of the soldier before him. The man gagged as the spear point severed his voice box. The soldier tried to retreat backwards while Nasir attempted to remove the sword from his side. It would not budge and he along with his spear, still stuck in the man’s throat, were pushed toward the edge of the cliff. Nasir tried another tactic. As the dying man swayed, he put his hand to his chest and tried to push the man away. His effort was for naught so he resorted to using his foot. He was losing blood quickly and he found himself weakening. The man suddenly grabbed his leg, but lost his footing and both tumbled off the edge of the ridge.

“NASIR!” Lugo screamed as he saw his friend fall into the darkness.

*****

Agron’s troops had managed to rejoin Naevia’s and they were successful in beating back the remaining Romans. As the opposing army ran off, Agron and Naevia hurried back to the camp shore up their defense. Once they arrived they were informed of the battle being fought on the cliffs. He looked around briefly to see if could find Nasir. He did not want to believe that his man had left his post to join Lugo’s forces. When they were updated about the inability of the rebels to deter the army, he, Saxa, Donar, Nemetes and a band of archers rushed eastwards to lend their aid. Once they reached the ridge they saw their forces were nearly overrun.

Agron signaled to the archers. “Fire!” He brayed at them. The bows sang as the arrows cut down a line of Roman soldiers. Agron commanded them to fire another volley and another line was taken down. With a collective battle cry, the newly arrived rebels rushed towards the remaining Romans and hacked away at them furiously. They made quick work of those who were foolish enough to remain and fight. As the battle dissipated, the casualties were assessed. Agron could tell that the rebels had suffered heavy losses. With every step he took, he saw men and women that he trained, ate and lived with either dead or dying. Saxa who had been walking beside him called out, “Lugo” and ran ahead of him. He followed after her.

Lugo was lying on his side and was being attended to by a fellow rebel. His face was contorted in pain while the arrow that had landed in his shoulder blade was being pulled out. He had suffered other injuries too but they did not look to be fatal. In a haze of pain, Lugo began to call out the names of those he saw fall in battle. “Calderion, Hecatae…gone. Nasir, fallen.” Agron kneeled down beside Lugo and nearly shook him. “Nasir? What of Nasir?”

Lugo’s eyes refocused and took in the man who was nearly face to face with him. “Nasir went over the cliff.”

Agron’s eyes widened in anger, “How can that be? He was at the camp when I departed. He was not with your men!”

Lugo sighed, “He came to fight with others to keep the Romans from the path to the camp. He was here. I saw him fighting.” Lugo pointed to a spot beyond them. “He was run through by a sword…”

Agron yelled, “No!” He shook his head in disbelief. “You are mistaken. It was someone else that you saw.”

Lugo winced as his midsection was wrapped in order to cover a fresh, ugly wound. “It was Nasir. He struck the man with his spear and then they both fell.” He pointed again, but this time at a more specific spot not far away.

Agron grabbed a nearby torch from the ground and went over to the edge. He saw bodies and weapons strewn about. None of them resembled Nasir or his spear. He began to walk along the edge and his foot kicked against something small but hard. He pointed the torch at it and his breath nearly caught in his throat. _It cannot be._ He thought as he bent down to pick it up. It was a necklace made up of wooden phalluses. The same kind of necklace Nasir wore.

*****

It was mid-day by the time Spartacus and Crixus made it up to the ridge where the rebels had fought so fiercely. They had to pause several times to make way for the transport of bodies that littered the path.  At the top was where they found Donar and Nemetes. They were wearing identical expressions of grief.

“Donar, Nemetes,” Spartacus said in greeting. “Where is he?”

“He’s gone down the side with Saxa to finish searching.” Donar replied.

“Have they not found him?” Crixus asked.

Nemetes shook his head and said “No, not yet. They did find his necklace, one of his gauntlets and what he believes is his spear…broken.”

Spartacus and Crixus both looked stunned. Nasir's death would be a monumental loss for the rebels. He had been part of them since their very first raid at a villa. They had been searching for Naevia at the time. Nasir had been a body slave to the dominus of the house. He had actually attempted to kill Spartacus. The rebel had a rueful look as he remembered the night that Nasir had snuck into the room where he lay with Mira.

“Please tell him to pause for a while. We must speak.” Spartacus directed. Donar nodded and made his way carefully down the side of the ridge. That particular edge was rather treacherous. The ground was rocky and uneven. Although they were close to the sea, the bottom of the cliff was nothing but sand with a few patches of grass. If a person went over, there would be nothing to buffet the fall. Death would be painful and more than likely imminent.

“I fear for Agron’s mind if Nasir is lost to him.” Crixus warned. “Remember the state he was in after Duro was killed.”

“I do,” Spartacus said. “That is why we must talk to him concerning the importance of what we must do within the next few days. We will need him to set aside his grief if only for a moment to help set plan to motion.”

They said nothing more as they waited for Agron to ascend to the top the ridge. Once he did, they had to force themselves to hold back any exclamations. The man who walked towards them held little resemblance to the fierce general from the lands east of the Rhine. Agron’s face was filthy. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands were covered with cuts and abrasions due to grabbing onto sharp edged rocks.

“You needed to speak with me?” Agron demanded. “Say what you need quickly so that I may continue the search. Time is precious in a situation such as this.”

“Agron, know that our hearts are heavy as well.” Spartacus said choosing to ignore Agron’s brusqueness. “I want nothing more than for Nasir to be found alive.”

Agron blinked and was at a loss for words for a few seconds. “He may very well be. We have covered a great deal of ground and have managed to find nothing that would indicate that…” He could not finish the rest of the sentence. “From what I hear, at the bottom of the cliff are several caves that lay beyond it. He may have gone to one of them for shelter and to recover from his wounds.”

“That does seem possible.” Spartacus said attempting to sound hopeful. Crixus meanwhile did not seem convinced. He did understand though, the need to hold on to any flicker of hope that a loved one still held breath. “I can send some more men to help with the search after our talk.”

“Gratitude for the offer,” Agron said.

“Agron, we will soon need to move camp again to more permanent and closed quarters.” Spartacus began.

“I figured as much. We cannot very well stay here now. The remains of Cossinius’ troops will join the ones that fucking Crassus has shit gold for. We may have been able to finally rid ourselves of the Praetor but as it stands now, we cannot endure another assault. Winter approaches and the people need food, shelter and clean drinking water.” Agron said.

“I could not have said it better, my friend.” Spartacus remarked. He was impressed by Agron’s clear-headedness.

“I hope you are able to find a place soon before more troops arrive. Perhaps, I will be able to join you in near future.” Agron continued.

“What is your meaning, Agron?” Crixus asked.

Agron drew himself up, “I will go no further with the rebels until I find out what has happened to Nasir.”

Spartacus and Crixus looked at one another. “Agron, we both understand your heart and mind in this. We have experienced the same. But we need you to help lead our people and find a city to take over.”

“You plan to conquer an entire city?” Agron asked, taken aback.

Spartacus nodded. “I need you to lead the people through.”

“I cannot.” Agron sighed. “And since you both have experienced this you know why I have decided to stay behind.”

“Agron,” Crixus cried.

“I have no more to say upon subject. Now I must take my leave. It will take several days to search those caves completely.” He left them standing where they were and went back down the ridge.

*****

He turned the brass arm band over in his hand again and again. It was an impressive piece of decoration. It was carved in the image of a serpent and it was quite heavy. Plannis remembered how good it looked on Nasir. He reminded himself to give it Nasir the next time he saw him. He stopped for a moment though and wondered if Nasir would remember ever wearing it, or if he would remember anything at all.


	3. The Second Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange deaths hit the rebel camp. Agron still searches for Nasir. Pandora instructs her new progeny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Lamina is Latin for vampire.

Spartacus had been making his rounds inside the medicus’ tent greeting his injured troops. From what he witnessed, it had been a brutal battle. He saw a myriad of cuts and abrasions that scarred faces. Some fighters had even lost limbs and were no longer able to fight at all. Each step further inside the tent brought more scenes of misery. He wanted to leave and return to the comfort and solitude of his own tent, but he knew he owed his gratitude to his warriors for their bravery and sacrifice. As he rounded the corner of the expansive marquee, he came across a line of slabs and on each one lay a body. The medicus was bent over one them and held an expression of bewilderment. He was muttering under his breath as well. Spartacus could only make out, “curious”.

“What confounds you so, Gallipor?” He asked the man. The medicus did not answer right away. Instead he walked around the slab and began to examine the body more closely.

Spartacus started again, “Gallipor?”

“I thought I had seen every single way a man could perish. And yet, this corpse holds utter mystery.” The elderly man replied in a low voice. He was stooped with age but yet he moved with a swift grace.

Spartacus was puzzled. All he saw was a dead man and nothing more, “How?”

“This death is unusual.” Gallipor said.

“It is not unusual for the young to die. It could have been from disease or some unknown injury.” Spartacus explained.

“I had thought the same except,” Gallipor said as he moved to another body. “This man looks to have died the same way. And this one as well.” He indicated another body not far away.

Spartacus looked at the other bodies. “It is odd that three people have perished under the same circumstances. Far stranger things have occurred though.”

Gallipor peered at the rebel leader, “Is that so? Have you seen stranger than three men dying on the same night with no other wounds than these?” He pointed to the dead man’s neck. Spartacus leaned in closer in examination. He saw two small puncture holes near the jawline.

“The others have these as well?”

Gallipor nodded and showed Spartacus the wounds on the neck of the other body. Spartacus surmised that the third body held the same marks.

“They could have been killed by the same weapon.” Spartacus said trying to put the pieces together.

Gallipor crossed his arms, “It is a rather abnormal battle skill to have, would you not say?”

“It is.” Spartacus concluded. “Alert me if you see any more bodies with these wounds.”

“I can do that.”

Spartacus left the tent afterwards. His mind was heavy with thoughts of Agron, Nasir, and the three dead men with strange wounds.

*****

He drifted in and out of the darkness. At times he could hear voices, other times he could hear nothing. Images of the past flashed in his mind. One was of him running through hot, dry sand with another young boy. They were laughing. The other boy sprinted ahead and yelled, “You cannot catch me, Nasir!” That image ended and another one began. It was of his dominus standing over him holding a leather collar. He was smirking as he told him, “Your name is Tiberius, now.” He did not know where he was or what had happened to him. He could neither move nor speak. He imagined he felt Agron running his hand through his hair. He thought he heard Saxa laughing heartily. There was Spartacus and Crixus; Naevia giving him one of her rare smiles.

He then heard a voice, “Nasir if you want to live, you must tell me so.”

He tried to speak. His mouth opened but no sound came forth. His breath caught in throat and he found himself gasping for air.

The voice again said, “Nasir if you want to live, you must tell me so.”

He saw Agron or more like felt him searching, fretting, and trying to find him. He could not leave him to wonder over his fate. That would be too cruel.

“Yes” He breathed softly. “I want to live.” He wanted to say, “To see Agron” but he could no longer speak. There was an incredibly sharp sensation in his neck. He felt his life being drained from him and he attempted to fight but he was too weak. He _wanted_ to live, he thought; more than anything. Why did it feel like he was dying? And then his mouth was forced open. He heard the same voice tell him, “Drink.” The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth and he did drink and continued to drink until he felt life being restored.

He could hear his heart pound but then it began to slow until he heard nothing. And that was when the real pain began.

*****

After Donar had reported that he and his team of men had found nothing in the third cave, Agron brooded over the firelight in silence. As the rest of the searchers had eaten and talked around their makeshift camp at the bottom of the cliff, his thoughts were centered only upon his lost lover. The idea that Nasir had gone to the afterlife tore at his heart. He looked at hands and tried to remember the alternating cool and warmth of Nasir’s hair as it fell between his fingers. He could almost taste the saltiness of Nasir’s neck as he recalled one of the many times he had kissed it in the heat of passion. Was he never to feel or taste his flesh again? Was it all over?

Saxa had come over to sit beside him. She had been a steady and quiet presence during this ordeal. But she now felt it was time to speak some hard truths to her countryman. “You not eat or drink nothing?” She asked in halting common tongue.

“I want nothing.” He answered in the speech of their homeland.

“Agron, we have been here for days.” She responded in German as well. “We have searched all over this place. If he was here and alive we would have found him by now.”

He glared at her. His green eyes flashed in the waning firelight. “We have not searched everywhere. There are still two more caves to canvas and other ridges beyond those. I cannot give up hope until I have checked every possible place.”

“See reason, brother!” She cried. “You have heard what Lugo witnessed. Nasir was gravely injured. Do you think he could travel miles through this terrain with serious injuries?”

“Would you stop looking if it were someone you cared for? What if Gannicus had fallen? Would you just leave without knowing his fate?" He demanded.

“If it were Gannicus, he would have already told me that if anything was to happen to him I was to continue on and fight.” She said. Agron looked away.

She did not like the fact that her words seemed hurtful but she felt she no longer had a choice. Her and the others, including an injured Lugo had stayed and searched with Agron out of loyalty. But as the days passed, they began to realize the precariousness of their situation. They could ill afford to have more distance set between them and the rebel horde; otherwise they would be unable to track them. She could not think of a worse position to be in than wandering around sand dunes with Roman soldiers on their trail.

“The others and I have been talking,” She began but Agron interrupted her.

“If you and the others want to leave, do so. I do not need somber pronouncements to preclude it!” He cried.

“You are not the only one who shall miss him!” She shouted. “But getting hunted down by the Romans because we got lost would serve no purpose. As much as you would like to forget Agron, we are still at war.” She stood up then but did not take her eyes from him. “We will search for one more day and then we all shall go to join the rest of our people.”

He snarled at her, “I told you, I will not leave until I know what happened to him.”

“Search your heart Agron; you already know the answer. His life in this world is over. Grieve for him, but honor him too by continuing to fight the Romans who took his life.” She left him as he still sat staring into the burning embers.

*****

The first one had been a large framed Roman soldier. He remembered waking up with a thirst that burned like a thousand hells. He had never felt such want; such desire. He seemed to smell the man before he heard him. His senses were that keen. There was very little light but he could clearly see the big man writhing on the floor as he attempted to free himself from the ropes that bound his hands and feet. The man began to grunt and curse but he tuned those noises out. He wanted to hear the heartbeat and the wonderful sound of blood rushing through veins. Yes, he could hear it all and now he wanted to taste that precious blood.

He crept silently through the room made of stone. He could not quite remember how he arrived there but those details mattered little to him. He was only interested in the man and what flowed through him. Before the man knew it, he had set upon him. His teeth easily cut through the flesh. The man wailed and tried to throw him off, but he was too strong. As the skin was pierced, he began to taste. It was slightly bitter at first but as he drank deeper, he found it to be exquisite. He could not get enough. He drank and drank as the man screamed and fought. It was deeply satisfying for him to clasp this abhorrent Roman and drain the life out of him. He kept drinking. He wanted to cease the heart. He wanted the eyes to grow dim and the skin to turn cold. But then he felt a hand at his shoulder pull him off. He tried to pry it away but its strength was unmatched. He was roughly shoved away. He glared at the person in anger. He was far from finished. He was about to curse when he heard.

“You are not yet strong enough to bring death. If you had tried it, his death would have brought about your own.”

The voice was familiar to him. It was female but deep. It had an odd tone. “Pandora, is that you?” He asked.

“Your thoughts are becoming clear now that the initial thirst has been quenched.” The voice said.

“It has not, I want more.” He said stonily.

“You shall have more, but not at this moment. You must pace the time between your feedings. If you feed too much or too often, it can be dangerous.” She replied as she lit the rest of the torches that hung in brackets in the four corners of the room. His initial anger was forgotten and he was filled with questions.

“Where am I? How did I get here? Why are you here? What happened to me?”

She held up her hands in order to still the tide of questions. He viewed her more carefully in the fully lit room. She was beyond beautiful. Her eyes were the color of molten gold. She had dark hair that hung down her back in rivers of curls.  Her lips were full and red, a stark contrast to the pale translucence of her skin. She was dressed in the garb of the wealthy Roman women he used to serve.

“To answer your first question, you are in the catacombs right outside of Sinuessa En Valle.”

He gasped, “I am in the middle of tombs?”

“Yes,” she smiled slightly. “It seems fitting.”

“Can you not speak in riddles?” He said icily.

“Oh, but I will be very direct with you my progeny. You are in the tombs to protect you from the sun. It is our enemy. Even the oldest of the old can only endure its rays but for a while. If you attempted to stride out into the sun, you would instantly turn to dust.” As she answered, she saw his look of confusion grow. “You are a child of the night, Nasir. A _lamina*._ Your mortal life is over, a new one has begun.” She continued.

“I do not understand. How did I become this thing you have described?” He whispered in horror.

“You made the choice. When I asked after I dragged you from that cliff bleeding and dying if you wanted to live, you said yes. And I gave you a new life.” Her gaze was penetrating and he could hardly look upon her directly.

“How could I choose to live as some fiend who lives in tombs and drinks…” he nearly gagged as tried to finish speaking. “Drinks blood from the bodies of the living? I must have been mad with blood loss and injury.” He noticed the Roman lying on the floor in the middle of the room was in the throes of death. He backed against the wall and watched as the last breath left the man. “What sort of madness is this? What crazed cult did you drag me into to think I am to stalk around in the night biting Romans?” He cried.

She was upon him an instant. He did not see her move at all and yet she was face to face with him. But she was just on the other side of the room. Her eyes were fierce and her voice held a deadly edge. “You think us mad? Do you think that there is some trick of light that allows me to move this way?” She then moved again and was suddenly standing over the dead Roman. She picked up his head by the hair and smoothly ripped it off. Nasir’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Is this the result of too much wine or strange visions because you fell hard upon a rock?” She asked him as she tossed the head aside. “Tell me how it felt when that first drop of blood fell upon your tongue. How much did you want it? How deep did you feel it as it filled your throat? Did you want it cease?”

Nasir shook his head almost involuntarily. He clearly remembered the euphoria after that first drink and he still craved more.

“Come with me,” she commanded.

He followed her out of the room and into a dimly lit corridor. The sound of the flickering candles was so loud it hurt his ears. He could hear water trickling behind the stones. He stopped and leaned his head against the side of the wall. When he did, it sounded as if the ocean was crashing against the rock that was pressed at his ear. He drew back and concentrated on the stones that made up the wall. The alternating shades of grey turned to minuscule multicolored flecks. He could literally see them all. They were coral, blue and green. He touched them gingerly in near disbelief.

“Nasir, come along. I do not want you to become so enamored of the wall that you neglect to meet the others.” Pandora called after him.

“There are others?” He asked surprised.

“Yes,” she said. “Two are my other progeny. Others were made by Marius.”

“Who is Marius?” He queried as he hurried to catch up with her. She was swift even though she did not look as if she ever moved her feet.

“Someone I regret knowing.” She said tonelessly.

He did not have time to question her further because she had then disappeared around a corner. He ran after her and wound up in an expansive room that was lined with openings that held the bodies of the less prominent Roman citizenry. That is where he found several other so called lamina, lounging against the wall or reclining against the stone pillars that were situated in the four corners of the rooms. None of them seemed to be doing anything in particular and they took no notice of him as he rushed in.

“Nasir, shall I introduce you?” She asked him as she circled each pillar, each lamina she encountered touched her with reverence. He counted seven of these beings. He still found it hard to believe that he was in fact one of them. As she called off their names, his mind was waging a war within himself. One part of him wanted to rush out and find Agron and the others. The other part of him wanted more blood and to know all the secrets Pandora seemed to possess.

“Murillo, gather some robes for my new child.” She said to one of the lounging vampires. “He cannot possibly walk around with those rags.”

Nasir automatically looked down and discovered that his breeches were covered with blood and dirt. Parts were torn and even his boots were scuffed and damaged. He then vaguely remembered a wound at his side. Was that where all the blood came from? He touched his left side but felt nothing. He tried to find a scar or even a scratch, he found none.

“Your wounds are gone. You will never suffer another save ones gained from fire. You will never grow old and you will never die.” He heard her tell him.

He was overwhelmed. “Pandora, help me to understand what all of this means. Can I ever return to those who I knew before or has that life ceased to exist?”

She was silent for a long while, “No, you cannot. Those who knew you as a mortal will turn on you and see you as a monster that should be destroyed.”

He flinched, “Agron would never think of me that way.”

“Yes he would, because you would be that monster Nasir. One who would not hesitate to drain the very life from him if overwhelmed with blood thirst.”

Nasir hung his head because for the first time that night, he had believed every word that she had said.

Three nights later as Agron eschewed another night of sleep to stand guard over his sleeping companions, Nasir finally left the catacombs to go hunting for the first time with Pandora and Murillo. They had heard the wheels of a wagon traveling down the road that led to the city. Upon further inspection, they guessed that there were four travelers. More than enough to go around.

“Let us depart.” She said and headed off toward the road. Nasir pulled the hood of his dark cloak over his head and followed behind her.


	4. The Second Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron learns of Nasir's fate. The rules of the lamina and the desires to the rebels clash. Spartacus discovers another victim.

He wiped the blood from his chin as he let the body fall from his arms. The sun had just set and he had already found a Roman to feed upon. In the few short days since his rebirth, he had learned how to drain a body to the very point of death without stopping the heartbeat. Under Pandora’s watchful eye, he began to employ stealth and cunning into his hunting. He had learned rather quickly that there were many ways to feed; some were better than others depending on the time and circumstances. He observed that some lamina in the group simply hid in the shadows and attacked. Others were more sophisticated, using guile and seduction. With Murillo, all he had to do was lie in wait and a willing victim always appeared in the shadows for the taking. Nasir was astounded at this ability and wanted Murillo to teach him to do the same. All Murillo would offer was a vague explanation, “The gift expresses itself differently with each of us. What one can do, another may not.”

“How do we know?” Nasir had prodded.

“It takes time to know. Some are able to fly among the night birds. Others are able to read the thoughts of mortals and control their minds. I have even heard tales of some of our brethren assuming the shapes of animals. I do not understand why any of us would want to turn into some dirty, great beast though. How unappealing is that?” Murillo replied with a smirk. He was a beautiful creature, with curly brown hair and eyes the color of deep, blue pools. He was a young man when he was made a lamina but in immortal years, he was over half a century. Unfortunately, his age had not increased his wisdom or his desire to do anything more than fuck and kill. Nasir came to the conclusion that if he wanted to truly understand the world of the lamina, he would have to refer all questions to his maker.

He was on his way back into the catacombs when he noticed a shadow moving near the entrance. With his new powerful eyesight, he penetrated the darkness and saw that it was a young boy. “Why do you linger near the door, boy?”

Plannis was momentarily startled. He hadn’t even heard the being approach. He recognized the voice instantly. It was the one person he was waiting for. He had hoped to finally see him after keeping his distance for the past few days per Pandora’s instruction. “I was waiting for you.” He responded. He moved away from the stone door and went to stand in front of Nasir.

“What would you have of me? Your blood is too thin and weak for my tastes, but the others may not think so. Return to your loved ones. There is nothing but death for you here.” Nasir warned.

Plannis looked puzzled for a moment. “You do not remember me, Nasir?”

Nasir paused and removed the hood he always wore when he ventured out. “How do we know one another?”

“We met at the rebel camp, just a few days ago. You stopped a man from harming me and I told you about the Roman scouts who had stolen into the camp in disguise.” Plannis answered. He knew that there would be a chance that Nasir would not recall their meeting. From what Pandora had told him, large segments of time were sometimes lost when the mortal life was discarded.

“The camp,” Nasir repeated seemingly lost in thought. “Lugo was there.”

Plannis nodded encouragingly. “Yes, you fought them and then later I brought Pandora to meet you and your man, Agron.”

Nasir winced slightly at the mention of Agron’s name. “I do not recall.” He said roughly and began walking into the entrance of the catacombs.

“Nasir, wait. I have something of yours.” The boy cried holding up the brass arm band.

He turned back towards the boy, irritated that he had mentioned Agron. He was still very much torn over their separation. His lover haunted his thoughts constantly but he knew he could not go to Agron. Not when he was still unable to control his desire to feed. He still needed to constantly and until he could handle his urges, he was a danger to not only Agron, but any mortal he came across.

“What is it?” He asked and then he saw the arm band. One tiny section gleamed in the faint moonlight. Without ceremony, he grabbed it from Plannis’ fingers and stared at it. “Where did you get this?” He demanded.

“It slipped off your arm while Pandora carried you inside the night you were given the gift.” Plannis replied.

Nasir clutched it tightly until it bent. He gasped and attempted to pull it back into its original shape. He still sometimes forgot how strong he was.

“I was waiting here to see if you would appear so I could finally give it to you.” The boy continued and sat down comfortably on the stairs that led to the tombs. He looked as if he ready to chat and share a meal with an old friend. “I also wanted to see how you fared.”

Nasir was no longer surprised by what the boy knew. He obviously knew Pandora well and held no fear of him or any of the other lamina. “There is still much to get used to. How did you and Pandora meet?” He asked him.

Plannis shrugged. “After the Romans came to my house, I ran for days until I found myself in the back alleys of Capua looking through piles of garbage for something to eat. One night when there was nothing to be found, I asked some men for some money or something to eat. They grabbed me instead and said that I was a slave and should be sold back to my dominus. I tried to tell them that I was not. I may have been hungry and dirty but I was not some common slave.”

Nasir’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, common slaves have been known to become warriors and lamina.”

“Apologies,” Plannis said quietly.

“Continue,” Nasir directed.

“They were about to bind me when I kicked one of them and pushed another one away. I ran as fast as I could until I ran right into Pandora. When they caught up to us, she said something to them. I cannot recall what it was but it frightened them and they ran away. I was fortunate that she took pity on me and got me something to eat and clean clothes. I have been with her and the others ever since.”

“Why did she not turn you as well?”

“It is forbidden to make one as young as he.” Pandora answered as she appeared.

Nasir was actually surprised at that statement. “You have more rules than I had realized.”

Pandora went up to the boy and ran her fingers through his hair. “It is quite logical. One so young would be more vulnerable to the elements, to mortals and to other lamina. Those who are able to create new ones have a certain responsibility to ensure that they are able to survive on their own.” She patted Plannis on the head as if he were a beloved pet. “Plannis has proved to be more resourceful that I had ever imagined. He is a highly favored companion.”

“And when I am of age, Pandora has promised to make me a lamina.” Plannis said enthralled.

Nasir shifted in discomfort. He wondered if the boy truly understood what it was like to live as an immortal. At the moment, he seemed to be under Pandora’s spell, caught up in her beauty and mysteriousness.  “You seem to know what you want, but desires change with age. There may be things you will want to experience in the future.” He was thinking of wives and of children.

“No,” Plannis argued. “I know what I want to be.”

“Your mind is made up it seems.” Nasir said casting a glance at Pandora.

“It is his choice, as it was with you.” She said firmly.

Nasir was grim. “I have not forgotten.”

“May you never.”

He left them without further comment. Plannis stared after him as he descended the stairs of the catacombs and disappeared into their depths. “He is angry.” He said to Pandora.

“He has not let go of his mortal attachments. His heart and mind are still entrenched in this war and with the ones who fight in it.” She said, staring at the entranceway as well.

“He will not leave us to fight will he?” Plannis inquired.

“It would not be in his best interest, but I do not know. His rebels are approaching the city.”  Was the answer.

*****

Dawn had broken less than an hour before and Donar was bent over a big pile of horse droppings as the rest of the stragglers caught up with him. He picked up a dropping and held it in his hand. “It is still warm and soft. I would say they are less than a day ahead of us.”

“Thank the Gods,” Nemetes breathed. “Mayhap we can reach the camp before the Romans catch up to us.”

For the past day or so, Agron and his search party had been chased by a small garrison of Roman soldiers. They were not sure if they were leftovers from Cossinius’ forces or scouts from Crassus or Pompey. What they did know was that they were gaining on them and would likely overtake them before they made it to the rebel camp; a place where they weren’t sure where it was located.

Agron took out a leather skin filled with water from his hip and drank deeply. He was worried that he and his people would run out of water and food as well. They knew they were very close to the coast, but they had not found any fresh water streams since they had set out. “We need to continue.”

The rest gave a collective sigh but none voiced any opposition. They were very aware of how tenuous their situation was. They passed skins of water between them, wiped the sweat from their brows and continued onwards.

Meanwhile at the main rebel camp, Spartacus, Gannicus and Crixus were about to set off for the city of Sinuessa En Valle in disguise. As they were about to leave, a scream pierced the air. Spartacus saw a woman throw herself over the body of a young girl near one of the main tents.

“What has happened?” He demanded.

“My Apollonia!” the woman wailed. “She disappeared the night before was found dead in the brush! Who would kill my daughter?”

Spartacus did not know why he did so, but he stooped down and examine the young woman’s body. The girl could have been no older than sixteen. She looked peaceful, albeit pale. She obviously had not suffered unduly. He took her face and turned it to expose her neck. That is where he saw the marks: two fresh puncture wounds right under the jaw. He stood back up and told the woman. “Wait for the medicus and tell him that I, Spartacus witnessed the same marks as the others.”

The woman’s agony turned to confusion. “I do not understand. Do you know who killed my girl?”

“No, I do not but I will find out.” He told her as he patted her hand. He then went to join his other generals. “What was that?” Gannicus asked.

Spartacus wrapped the purple garment he was wearing tighter around him, “I am not sure, but we need to find safe shelter for these people. There seems to be yet another threat haunting us other than the Roman horde.”

*****

The sun had set and the lamina had awakened. Nasir woke up to the same overwhelming thirst as he had experienced the night before and the nights before that. As he prepared to go hunting with Murillo, a female lamina glided up to them.  “There is a sea of rebels on the outskirts of the city. We can merge into the camp and gorge ourselves.” Her smile revealed her fangs.

Murillo looked at Nasir with a wry grin. “You will soon be reunited with your people.”

Despite his need to feed, he decided not to join Murillo and the others. “I will hunt elsewhere.”

Murillo was skeptical. “Nasir, you do not feed upon the rebels out of a sense of loyalty?” He was nearly laughing.

Nasir was resolute. “I do not expect you to understand. Those are my people. I cannot kill my own even to sate my thirst.”

“You are the one who does not understand, young one. You are an immortal now. Your existence transcends war, battle, boundaries or politics. Whether Roman or Rebel, blood is blood.”

Nasir was slightly taken aback because it was the most profound thing he had ever hear Murillo say. “Nevertheless, tonight I cannot join you.”

“If that is your decision, so be it. Time may change it. If not, you may not survive. Which would be a pity. You have become a beautiful thing.” Murillo said and he lightly stroked Nasir’s cheek. Nasir was not moved by passion or anything else. He departed from their company. He avoided the camp and found himself wandering around a rocky field a few leagues outside of it. His thirst was raging and he was hoping to come across lost traveler or merchant. What he saw instead shook him to his core. From the shadows, Agron appeared. He was travel weary and sweating but with his sword and shield at the ready.

He was unsure what to do. He found a large rock and quickly stood behind it as the others approached. There was Saxa, Donar, Nemetes, and to his great relief Lugo. He knew he could not simply appear in front of them whole and unmarked, not without being able to provide a credible explanation. One thing Pandora stressed was the importance of keeping the existence of the lamina a secret. As Agron and his party approached, Nasir could hear the pounding of horses. He realized the others had not heard them yet. He debated on whether or not to warn them. From what he could discern there were more than a dozen men headed their way on horseback. He surveyed the travelers from his position behind the rock. He heard their ragged breathing and pounding hearts. They were exhausted and hardly ready to take up arms and fight. They needed food and rest. Nasir closed his eyes. He knew of no deity that he could call upon. He mustered his resolve and simply hoped he would be able to deal with the consequences of his actions. He slipped from behind the rock and stood a few yards ahead of the advancing group.

“Who is that?” Donar asked gripping his long ax in both of his hands. The rest spotted the hooded figure in the young moonlight and drew their weapons. Saxa flashed her daggers, Lugo wielded his hammer and Agron hefted his sword. In order to avoid being run through by the entire group, he took off his hood. With his face revealed, his spoke. “Peace, brothers. It is I.”

“Nasir?” Lugo said.

Saxa gasped, “No!”

“Fuck the Gods,” Nemetes murmured.

Agron dropped his sword and stumbled towards him. Nasir bent his head slightly, unable to bear Agron’s expression. If he had, he would have seen one of pain, confusion and fear. “How can this be? Lugo told of your wound and of your fall. We searched for you…” He couldn’t finish, he could only shake his head.

Nasir listened to the tremor in Agron’s voice. “I did not intend to cause such trouble. I could not come to you before then because…” He began searching for an excuse. He had thought of several explanations to give Agron for disappearance, but he could not think of any as he stood in his lover’s presence.

“What? Where were you?” Agron grabbed his shoulders. He could feel the coolness of the flesh under the thin layer of clothing.

“I needed to heal. I was in a place that allowed me to do so.” Nasir said repressively. He kept his head down. He did not want Agron to see the changes in his appearance.

“We look for you for days!” Saxa shouted. “Now you here?”

“Saxa,” Agron began rolling his eyes.

Nasir grabbed Agron’s hands. “This is not the time for quarrels. Roman soldiers are on their way here.” He was finding it harder to control himself. He could literally hear the blood rushing under Agron’s skin. He wanted to taste the salt of his flesh and then the sweet, metallic elixir.

“We know they have been tailing us.” Nemetes said looking at him strangely. The warrior sensed something was not quite right with the person standing before them.

“Then you should know they are approaching at this very moment.” Nasir replied darkly.

The others were aghast and readied their weapons again.

“You need to hide.” Nasir told them. “You will have the advantage because they will not want to risk injury to their horses on the rocky ground. Do it, now.”

They scattered and found large rocks to crouch behind. Nasir had planned to remain in his position and head off the soldiers. He knew that he could because he was faster and stronger than anyone standing in the field. But before he knew it, Agron had grabbed his hand and dragged him behind a rock. He was about to protest vehemently but Agron placed a finger to his own lips in a gesture of silence. They all waited for several minutes and then they heard the thumping of hoods upon the ground. The thumps eventually turned into clops and Nasir heard one of the men tell the others to dismount.

“We will have to lead the horses. This ground is covered with rocks.” The man stated.

“They are dismounting and are leading their horses right towards us.” Nasir whispered. Agron peered around the rock where they were hiding but saw nothing.

“How do you know this?” He whispered back.

“Shh!” someone hissed.

They kept waiting until the first of the soldiers appeared. The others looked at Agron to wait for his signal, but it was all for naught. Saxa jumped out from a thick patch of grass which was her hiding place with a screech.

“Fuck!” Agron shouted and ran out to join her. The other rebels joined them and they all began to fight. Nasir stayed where he was and observed. Donar had sliced a man’s midsection completely open and Nasir saw the blood pouring out him. He smelled it as the coppery scent hit the air and his breath came out in rasps. He rushed from his place behind the rock, grabbed the dying man and dragged him back. Amidst the skirmish, he sank his fangs into the man’s neck before the life completely left him. He sucked greedily as the Roman gurgled and shuddered underneath his grip. He could hear the heart slowing down and reluctantly detached himself before the man expired. He was not filled. He needed more.

He reappeared, filled with blood lust. A Roman in full regalia rushed at him with his broadsword ready to decapitate him but with a movement too fast for the mortal eye to see. He had stepped aside and swiped the sword from the soldier’s hand. The man looked around stupidly for a second before Nasir appeared in front of him again. With one swift stroke, the man’s throat was slashed. Nasir wiped the blood from the sword tip with his fingers and licked them. Nemetes happened to see it and nearly dropped his weapon in surprise. Nasir went on, cutting and slicing through the throng of soldiers. He even broke the neck of one with just a simple contraction of his fingers. As the fight ended, he was surrounded by bleeding bodies and was nearly losing his mind. He wanted to literally bathe in the warm redness and mourned as blood dripped from the bodies onto the rocky field.

Agron went around checking his men (and Saxa) to see who was hurt. Fortunately, none were seriously injured and he went over to see his erstwhile lover again. Nemetes, however stopped him. “Agron, you should keep your distance.”

Agron was livid, “What is this madness? Unhand me, Nemetes.” He tried to shake the man’s hand off, but the blonde warrior held steadfast.

“Agron that is not the Nasir you knew before!” Nemetes cried. His eyes glinted and there was a frantic edge to his voice.

“He is right, Agron.” Nasir said quietly.

“Have you lost mind since you have been away?” Agron demanded. 

Before Nasir could explain, Nemetes stated, “I saw him tasting the blood of our enemies. Showing strength that no mere man should possess. He broke a man's neck with one hand!” He glared at Nasir. “I have heard tales of spirits inhabiting the bodies of the dead in order to haunt and kill the living.”

Agron scoffed, “Enough!” He wretched Nemetes’ hand off of him. “Save the crazed talk for the gullible ones at the rebel camp. We need to depart and quickly.”

“Agron, LOOK AT HIM!” Nemetes screamed. Agron did and could not believe what he saw. In the growing moonlight, Nasir’s skin was pale. His eyes were much lighter than the deep brown that Agron had remembered. The scar over his eye was still there, but so faint it was hardly noticeable. His hair was inky black and straighter than it had been before. As much as Agron tried to reconcile the subtle differences in lover’s appearance, he could find no real explanation for them.

“I am not what Nemetes described.” He said.

“Then who are you? If not Nasir, then what are you? ” Agron asked.

“I am something else.”

The others backed away in fear and Saxa drew up her daggers.

Agron shook his head. He would not believe what was being said to him. “If you have some condition or some ailment, come to the camp and have the medicus look at you.”

Nasir closed his eyes, “I want to go with you more than anything in this world, but I can no longer follow where you travel.”

Agron looked stricken. ”Why not? You are here and alive. Thank the Gods. We are reunited and now we can go and join the others in the fight.”

Nasir opened his eyes again. “No.” And before Agron could interrupt he overrode him. “For reasons I cannot provide. Just trust that I would never want to hurt you or anyone else on the rebel side.”

Agron looked more confused than ever but Nasir continued on. “You are correct, you must leave for camp. It is dangerous to linger out here in the wild. I will try to ensure safe passage to the borders of the camp.”

“Fuck that!” Nemetes shouted. “I shall not follow this creature to our doom. I say we end his wretched life right now.”

“Put your sword down, Nemetes or you shall fall where you stand.” Agron growled and gripped the hilt of his own sword.

“There is no need.” Nasir said. His eyes gleamed yellow and he drew himself up. “Nemetes, If I had wanted you or anyone else dead, I would have killed you already. And it would have been quite easy. If you do not believe anything else, believe that.” Agron recoiled.

“Let us go, the hour grows late. The camp is not far from here.” Nasir pulled the hood back onto his head.

“We go with him?” Saxa asked incredulously.

“You must not tarry, there are worst things in the night that follow than Romans.” He declared.

*****

They walked in silence for the handful of miles to the camp. Agron wanted desperately to get Nasir alone so that they could talk. He needed to understand what had happened to him. He was afraid though, and began to doubt if could accept the answers. The others hurried along looking furtively over their shoulders and jumping at every sound. They soon heard the familiar sounds of the rebel camp and Nasir halted.

“What is it now?" Lugo asked. “Another attack?”

“We are being watched.” Nasir whispered.

“I am sure they are our scouts. Let us wait here for them to come to us.” Donar said.

Nasir shook his head, “No.” He then moved to the side to stand in front of Agron. “Do not move.” He commanded. Suddenly, several figures appeared. Leading them were Murillo and the female lamina who had looked so forward to feeding within the camp.

“Look who is here on a night time walk with friends.” She drawled. She smiled prettily and Nasir knew she was ready to draw her fangs. She was a diminutive female with alabaster skin and red hair. She looked harmless but she was a vicious and effective killer.  “Are you not going to introduce us, Nasir?”

“No Phaedra. Allow them to pass.” He replied.

“For what cause? Let me surmise, loyalty?” She jeered.

“Let us pass. Or we will cleave your heads from your shoulders. How is that for cause?” Agron ground out.

“You would be dead before the first strike.” Murillo said.

The rebels drew their weapons and formed a line. The lamina drew closer and hissed. They drew their fangs.

“No!” Nasir bellowed. “These folk are my comrades. We fought side by side. They were lost searching for me. Let them go!”

Murillo sneered. “Move aside, Nasir. You may still cling to your mortal ties but as I said, blood is blood.”

Nasir removed his hood. “I will not. You will have go through me to get to them.”

“Gladly,” Phaedra sneered.

Nasir bared his fangs and hissed at the lamina as they drew closer. He knew he was outnumbered and they all were older and stronger than he was. He could not let them kill Agron and the others. He was willing to give up his new immortal life to prevent their deaths. A voice then rang out.

“Cease this madness at once.”

It was Pandora, accompanied by Plannis. The lamina drew back but Nasir held his ground. The rebels huddled closer and Donar blurted out, “Who the fuck is this?”

Although her face remained impassive, she was seething. How dare her coven fight amongst themselves and in the presence of mortals? She pointed her finger at her brethren. “All of you, depart. Except for Nasir… NOW!” They drew back and disappeared into the darkness to the astonishment of the rebels.

She turned to face Nasir, enraged. “What is this?”

He had the grace to bow his head but he was feeling quite defiant. “I accompanied this group of rebels to the camp to ensure their safety.”

Pandora tore her eyes away from Nasir and spotted Agron glaring at her. “You disobey my command and then you lie to me?”

“Nasir is a free man!” Agron yelled. “He is under no command unless he chooses to be.”

“And he chose to be under mine.” Pandora countered calmly. “You should go and join your people now.” She stepped aside, clearing the way for the rebels to pass. “You will not have to fret over being molested tonight. My brethren now know not to bother you. But before you go,” She said as she held warning finger. “Speak of this to anyone, and I shall rescind my order. If our names so much as pass from your lips, they shall be forever stilled before the cock crows. Now go.”

The other rebels ran quickly from her, but Nemetes, Lugo, Donar, Saxa and Agron stayed.  

“Why do you and your friends stay, Agron?" She asked.

“What have you done to him?” Agron demanded.

“Nothing that he did not choose.” She stated simply.

“He would never choose this!” He exploded. Nasir remained standing where he was.

She said placidly. “Oh but he did. If you do not think he is committed to his choice, ask him to follow you into the camp. Tell him to join you and all of your warm-blooded companions.”

Nasir scowled. “Go Agron.” He said hoarsely. “And do not speak of what you have seen. Do not mention me at all to Spartacus, Naevia or anyone else. Forget me.”

“You ask that of me?” Agron whispered.

Nasir looked away. “The rebels cannot afford to wage war against Crassus, Pompey AND us. If you set the rebels upon us, we will destroy you.”

Agron was incensed. “Now I understand. You are not Nasir. You are some dark fiend in his guise. You and your monsters stay away from us or we shall find a way to destroy you.” He stalked away and the rest followed in his wake.

Lugo stopped though and looked over his shoulder. “Farewell Nasir.” He said and then made his way into camp.

In the few short days of his immortality, Nasir had felt that his grasp of human emotions was beginning to fade but they all came rushing back to him. He could barely stand from the impact.

“What am I to do with you?” Pandora asked quietly as she stood before Nasir. She was as tall as he was so she was able to look him square in the eyes.

“Whatever punishment you give could never match the pain of this.” He said. He could feel a tear fall from his cheek. He quickly wiped it away.

“What did I tell you?” She said.

Nasir sighed. “It was not my intent to seek him out. I did not go with the others to the camp in fear of seeing him. I did not count on a battle with a Roman garrison or him guessing that I was not the man he once knew.”

“You knew you were not to hunt alone. You knew that if you did see Agron that he would reject you. Why did you choose not to listen to that most important lesson?”

Nasir had no answer. He merely shook his head.

“Go back to the catacombs. Do not stray from path or I will know. I will bring a body for you to feed upon. It seems that you have been punished enough tonight.” She told him.

He hurried away. Plannis gave Pandora a stern look. “You were very lenient with him.”

“Are you questioning my authority, Plannis?” She asked.

“No, but I do wonder if you would have let Murillo get away with that.”

Pandora beckoned to him and they began to leave the camp border. She knew there would be no more hunting among the rebels for a while. “You are still too young to know that Murillo has done much worse.”

“I thought Nasir would take to being a lamina right away. But now I do not know if he will be a good one at all.” The boy said wistfully.

“Do not lose hope, Plannis. I have a feeling that Nasir will become one of the greatest of our kind.”


	5. The Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron rejoins the rebels after his encounter with Nasir. Spartacus' forces take over the city. Nasir regains control.

Agron chewed his food absently as the rest of his group sat around him in silence. He did not know if it was from fear or fatigue that kept everyone from speaking. The rebels at camp were stirring with excitement but he hadn’t bothered to inquire as to what was going on. He felt as if he were in a daze. The last few days played like some nightmare in his mind: Nasir was with him but then was gone, it was feared that he was dead. But he wasn’t dead because he appeared to them in the field. He looked and sounded somewhat the same then (except for his eyes and his skin). However, when they ran into those other creatures, he bared fangs and hissed like some animal. Agron literally shook himself to dislodge the images. Whatever met them earlier that night bore little resemblance to the man he loved.

Crixus was making his way through the swelling crowds of armed rebels to meet with Agron and his group. He was pleased when told that the German had managed to make it back to camp and praised his timing. That very night, the rebel army was going to seize Sinuessa En Valle and Agron’s fighting prowess was greatly needed.

“Look who managed to drag himself here at the most fortunate of times.” Crixus greeted him.

Agron was slightly startled but stood up and clasped hands with his fellow general. “Yes, we have finally arrived.”

Crixus scanned the rest of the group and noticed the glum faces of Agron’s comrades. “I take it that your search did not yield desired results.”

Saxa threw Agron a panicked look. He on the other hand kept his face neutral. “No, it did not.” He said.

Crixus grabbed his shoulder. “That is dire news indeed. You look weary and I would not ask this if I did not feel it necessary.”

“What is it?” Agron asked.

“We are taking the city tonight.” Crixus declared.

Agron choked out, “Tonight?”

“Yes, we are gathering arms and setting out to march to the gates at this very moment. Spartacus, Gannicus and I spent the day there. The citizens are frightened to death of the very name of Spartacus. We plan to make their fears come true tonight.”

Agron drew a deep breath. “I will do what I can to aid the cause.”

“Gratitude. I know your heart is heavy. Perhaps the spilling of Roman blood will help you somewhat.” Crixus said.

Agron shrugged, “Perhaps. I will ready my men and we will be prepared to enter when told.”

Crixus nodded in approval. “Spartacus and Gannicus stayed behind to thwart the guards and open the gates. Once we see them open, we will rush in and attack.” He looked to Agron’s men (and Saxa) again with one last order. “When we do attack, leave none alive.” He clapped Agron on the shoulder again and rushed off.

Donar’s shoulders sagged, “It never seems to end does it? One fucking fight after another.”

“Did you expect the Romans to go away quietly?" Nemetes demanded. “What I want to know is what and when are going to tell Spartacus and the others about N-?” The rebels surrounding him quieted him at once, though.

“Close fucking mouth, Nemetes! You heard that woman. We are not to speak of it to anyone!” Donar said roughly.

“We must!” Saxa broke in. “They will try to kill us. They already in the camp. No telling how many have died.”

Agron held up his hand. “Silence! We will not speak of this again tonight. We must prepare for battle. When the time is right, we will decide what to do.”

Nemetes was heartened by Agron’s announcement, “I know what to do already, kill every single one of them!”

“You kill them?” A skeptical Saxa asked. “All alone? I want to see. I pay to see.”

“Cease talking,”Agron commanded. “Gather your weapons and depart.”

*****

Nasir was reclining inside a cleared out tomb in the catacombs when he heard the first shouts. He sat up and attempted to strain his hearing further. It was then that a thunderous rumble literally shook the walls. He rushed out into the stone hall and was planning to go outside to see what was going on but he was stopped. He had not wished to interact with any of the other lamina for the rest of the evening but Pandora beckoned him to join her in the main room. As he had told Plannis before, there were things that he had to get used to as an immortal. He felt that he would never get used to being at Pandora’s beck and call.

When he arrived in the main room, the other lamina glared at him. He gave as well as he got. He was not concerned with their anger. Although Pandora was his maker, he did not feel a sense of belonging with these other creatures. He was not a member of the coven and he never would be. He crossed his arms and waited to hear what she had to say.

“The rebels are invading the city.” She stated. “While they are, we will stay here until they have finished pillaging, raping and doing what the rebels do.” It took a monumental effort for Nasir not to sneer at her.

Murillo looked disgusted, “Why should we? So much glorious blood is being spilled. We should be there to partake!” A few other lamina nodded in agreement. Others shook their heads.

“Why do we usually avoid crowds of mortals, Murillo?” Pandora asked disdainfully.

“I know of the risk of discovery but we risk being discovered every time when step outside when the sun sets. We have followed the rebels for months. We have drifted in and out of their camps and fed on them after their battles. Why must we be cautious now?” He argued.  He then glanced at Nasir. “Or are you afraid that your new child will abandon you and go back to his own kind?”

Pandora bore her eyes into Murillo. “Do not speak of things of which you know nothing about, Murillo. I will not warn you again. Lest I should feel the need to reveal why you came crawling back to me.”

Murillo was silenced but he looked mutinous. She continued on calmly, “Murillo has broached upon a subject that we do need to discuss. The war between the rebels and the empire has escalated. Whispers from Rome tell of a massive army marching its way towards Spartacus’ forces as we speak. The final battle will be coming soon and we can ill afford to get caught in between. Therefore, I think that it is time that we return to Rome.”

Most of the lamina celebrated the news. Phaedra seemed delighted. “I can hardly wait. I miss Rome terribly.” She cooed.

Murillo looked unconvinced and was looking at Pandora rather strangely. Nasir was stone-faced. The last thing he had ever imagined was going to Rome. He started to shake his head as Murillo began to chuckle.

“Leave us,” Pandora directed. “Murillo and I need to break words. We will talk about the details later.”

The other lamina drifted away to their personal corners of the catacombs while Nasir remained.

“Nasir,” Pandora began.

He interrupted her with, “You can speak with Murillo as long as you like after I leave. My words will be brief: I am not going to Rome.” She merely sighed as she was a mother dealing with an obstinate child.

Murillo was still smirking. “It seems as if I am correct. Your precious new progeny wants to stay behind and battle the Romans.” He joked.

“What concern of this is yours?” She bit out. “You were ready to rip him apart outside the camp. Why should it matter to you if he stays or leaves? “

“It does not matter to me if he stays or leaves.” Murillo responded.

“The feeling of unconcern is mutual, Murillo.” Nadal quipped.

“I will say that the decision to go back to Rome so suddenly is more than a little curious.” Murillo went on as if Nasir had never spoken. “For years you have avoided the place and Marius. Now you want to haul stakes and return, why?”

“I gave my reasons why. Your choice not to listen or accept them is not my problem. As for Marius having anything to do with them is completely wrong on your part. I am thinking of the safety of the coven. Unless you would like a full-fledged war breaking out over your resting place. Which brings me to you since you insist upon staying,” She directed her attention to Nasir. “As a member of this coven, you will go where I command you to go.”

“I am not a part of this coven. The others made that very clear tonight when they attempted to attack me and the rebels I was escorting, even after I asked them to allow us to pass.” Nasir countered.

 “You opposed your own brethren for the lives of mortals.” Pandora said.

“The mortals are my brethren! Neither you nor any of the others would ever deem me worthy enough to sacrifice your lives for! I know that Saxa, Lugo, Nemetes and Donar would give me the very clothes off their backs, the very food from their bowls. Agron…” He paused. “Agron would have done anything for me! And yet, you expect me to fully embrace you and the other lamina after only days? When all you do is look upon the rebels with disdain? You forget that I was one. How are you any different from the Romans? Anyone who is not lamina is inferior and deserves death? I am to live for eternity in the company of these creatures? No, I will not.”

Pandora and Murillo were stunned. “You think that I do not care for you. Why would I give you the gift of immortal life if I did not?” She asked.

“I do not know. Perhaps you want to swell the numbers of your coven to rival the one in Rome.” He said bitterly.

Pandora said flatly. “That is a child’s answer.”

“No, it is not. That is the answer of a man who chose to live when given the chance. A choice anyone would have made.” He exclaimed.

“Sounds to me like the answer of a man who is ungrateful.” Murillo mummured.

“Close fucking mouth, Murillo!” Nasir snarled. “You know nothing of me or my life before I was turned! I was a slave before I met Spartacus and the others.  For the first time in my life, I was given control of my destiny. My fate lay in my own hands and not based upon the whims of my dominus. I have maimed, burned and killed to maintain my freedom and to set the path of freedom for others. I cannot and will not throw aside that freedom again. Immortal or no, I am Nasir: a free being. I shall not be controlled by anyone or anything else.”

Pandora stepped away from him and began walk about the room. “The bond shared within the coven is set by more than just a declaration. It is a connection tied in blood. We are all related: Progeny by progeny, Maker by progeny. All of us descended from the Ones that Must Be Kept; the first and oldest of our kind. If you manage to survive long enough, you will discover that the bond of blood is more important and more precious than anything you will possess.”

“You are simply speaking of family.” Nasir shrugged.

“Yes, I do speak of family-the lamina family; of which you are a part.” She turned to face him again.

He did not look at her. “It is the same question which we have wrestled with for days, Pandora. Do I stay with the family tied by blood or the family tied by choice?”

She showed a rare display of exasperation. “You are no longer a part of that world, Nasir.”

“As long as Rome seeks to quell the rebellion, I will be.” He said.

“And as long as your lover remains alive as well, correct?” Murillo queried. He was surprised that he found the debate between Pandora and Nasir so interesting. He of course never faced such inner conflict when he was turned. Nasir infuriated and fascinated him. He had never met a lamina so determined to cling to his humanity. Nasir rolled his eyes in disgust but did not answer.

“Murillo asked a question.” She said.

“Yes, I know. It is one I chose not to answer. What would he know of love? The only thing he seems to love is sucking the blood from the legs of virgins.”

“Now I could argue that you know nothing of me or my life before I was turned, Nasir.” Murillo said laughing.

“This discussion is getting tedious. I will be gone by next moon.” Nasir turned to leave.

In an instant she was in front of him, blocking his way. “Tell me newborn, when one is forced to go to ground, how deep should the hole be? How long does it take to dig one before you are overcome by the rays of the dawn? When caught upon a ship for months, how will one feed without destroying the entire crew of the ship? Which lasts longer when storage is necessary, Cow's blood or horse blood?”

When he could not answer those questions, she raised her eyebrows. “You have so much to learn. How do you expect to live long enough to march with the rebels and fight?”

He had to admit, she had him there. His lamina life skills were sorely lacking. He refused to budge though. “I will just have to find out on my own as I did with everything else I have ever learned. My instincts have served me very well.”

“Will they help your fellow rebels accept you again? They now see you as some murderous beast.” She said.

Nasir remembered the appalled look on Agron’s face as he backed away from him at the camp. It hurt him to his very core. “I’d rather face repeated rejection from them for all eternity than to step foot in the fucking shithole that is Rome.” He stepped aside and left her presence.

“It looks as if he has set his mind towards staying.” Murillo said pleasantly.

She was resolute. “He will travel to Rome with the rest of us. He will understand that it is for his own safety as well as Plannis’.”

“Oh Pandora, you out of all of us should know the power of love. It forces us to do the very thing that is contrary to our best interest. He will never stop trailing the rebels as long as Agron is alive.”

She shrugged, “Maybe I should kill Agron.” Murillo was left stunned again. “Why not? It seems as if Agron is the one preventing him from bonding with us. If he is out of the way…” She mused.

“Listen to yourself.” He argued. “What if you heard someone plotting to destroy Marius?”

“I’d give them the weapon to do it.” She quipped. 

He sniffed. “You only say that because you are angry with him. You know that you would do anything to keep Marius from harm. It does all seem rather unfair though.”

“What is unfair?”

“You rushing us all back to Rome to reunite with your lover, while planning to keep Nasir away from his own.”

She was suddenly angry. “You have done naught but spout nonsense all night! My relationship with Marius is hardly the same as a newborn and his mortal!”

He looked at her imperiously, not moved at all by her anger. “I think it is. You think so as well.” He strolled out of the room smirking.

*****

Agron crashed against the side of building on the street of the city. He was exhausted and his mind was reeling. He was fortunate that he had not been hurt. He sword arm felt as if it were made of iron and he could barely swing it. If it had not been for Naevia’s sharp eyes and steadier hand, he would have been slashed from neck to navel by an enemy. From left to right, he saw bodies and fire. Based on the cheers and yells of the rebels, he concluded that the invasion had been successful. He really had no idea. He saw the gate opened, and the Aedile skewered by Spartacus’ spear. He observed the citizens being dragged into the streets. He had merely stepped over them. He was not overcome with the desire to kill or the will to celebrate  He was numb to everything. All of his senses were dulled and the only thing he could do was lean his head back against the wall. He felt a hand on his shoulder and his eyes flew open. He found himself face to face with Spartacus.

“Brother, you are a most welcome sight!” The rebel leader exclaimed.

Agron covered Spartacus’ hand with his own. “Gratitude. I am in hopes that I was some kind of help.”

“You always are, Agron.” Spartacus said. Gannicus yelled his name, drawing his attention away from his very tired looking general. But before he left, he told Agron to get some much needed rest. Agron could not have agreed more. He stumbled down the street looking for an unoccupied abode. He finally found one, several leagues beyond the gate. Up until a few hours before, it had belonged to a wealthy young woman who had a houseful of servants, coffers full of bread and wine, and luxurious silks and furs. What Agron found as he entered the threshold were torn tapestries, raided shelves and a missing domina. He climbed the steps to the second floor and went into a small room on the left that contained a pallet. He sat heavily on the bed and removed his boots and battle leathers. After he finished undressing he collapsed. He fell asleep immediately and did not dream.

*****

He did not awaken until the middle of the next afternoon. As he struggled to sit up, he shielded his eyes from the sun that was blaring at him from the open window in the room. Every part of him hurt and he was hungrier than he had been in ages. He knew he needed three things: a spot to take a piss, some water to bathe and a good meal. He hoped that he was able to find at least one of those things.

When he finally appeared in the streets after emptying his bladder and having nice bath in one of the villa’s several bathing pools, he was then on a mission to get some sustenance. He passed corridor after corridor filled with Romans chained together against walls and doorways. Occasionally a rebel would pause to strike one that failed to please the eye with a proper look of suffering. Agron didn’t try to stop them. Had it been the rebels in chains, the treatment would have been much worse. He spotted Gannicus and Saxa fondling each other near an open market area. Saxa managed to stop her hand from snaking down Gannicus’ breeches further and gave Agron a nod.

“Where is Spartacus?” He asked them.

“Comfortably settled in the recently departed Aedile’s villa.” Gannicus replied, spurning Saxa on in continuing her exploration. “Just walk past the square and turn right.”

“Gratitude.” He started to go when Saxa called out him.

“I have seen nothing. Have you seen anything or anyone?” She asked him in German. He merely shook his head and continued on.

When he reached the cluster of villas near the main square of the city, he knew which one Spartacus was in because of the stream of people walking in and out of it. When he reached the entrance, he saw Naevia and Crixus talking with Spartacus intently. Once Spartacus noticed Agron hanging around the doorway, he beckoned him in. As he walked past, Crixus greeted him and gave him a hearty pat on the back. Even Naevia let her guard down and gently stroked his arm. He knew it was her way of saying, ‘I miss him too.’

After they had left, Agron plopped down on a carved wooden chair opposite Spartacus. There was a small bowl of fruit on the table that sat between him and he grabbed a fig. In no time, he had peeled the covering off and stuffed the entire fruit in his mouth. As he grabbed for another one, Spartacus asked if he wanted him to send someone for food. Agron could only grunt. While Spartacus instructed one of the rebels standing nearest the door to grab a bowl of food, Agron surveyed the table. It was covered with maps and documents. He figured that Spartacus had spent most of his time in his new living quarters raiding the Aedile’s belongings.

“Naturally, taking over an entire city has created an entire new set of problems.” Spartacus began as he sat back down.

“Tell me what needs the most attention and I will see it taken care of.” Agron declared after swallowing the second fig.

Spartacus settled into his chair. “I plan to but first I want to know what occurred during your search.”

Agron paused for a moment. “We found nothing near the cliff or caves. After we ceased the search and began the journey back to the camp…We discovered that Nasir is lost to us forever.”

Spartacus sighed deeply. It was news that he expected, but did not want to hear. “What did you discover that lead you to the conclusion?”

“It is difficult to speak of it.” Agron said in a near whisper. “He is gone now, never to be seen again.”

Spartacus was slightly confused. He had never heard Agron say such things. He thought the actual phrasing was odd. Why did he not just say that Nasir was dead? He noted that Agron looked despondent and decided then not to press the issue further.

*****

It was the beginning of a clear and crisp autumn night. Nasir was already standing outside the catacombs and wrinkled his nose. Although the tombs were a couple of leagues away, he could smell the stench of burning and decayed flesh from the carnage in the city. Although he had told Pandora he would leave the coven that night, he still had only a vague idea of where he would go and what he would do. As he went over plans on how to find a resting place and the best  way to sneak into the city, he took no notice of his maker approaching him.

“You have not left yet?” She taunted. “I would have thought as soon as the last ray had disappeared in the horizon you would be setting off.”

“I plan to. I just needed to…” He began.

“Not reconsidering your decision are you?”

“No,” he said shaking his head. “I have not.”

“I could very well force you to abandon this idea and come to Rome.” She said silkily, not looking at him.

“What good would that do?” Nasir asked. “I would be no more accepting of my place in the coven there as I did here.”

“I also thought of finding Agron and killing him.” She went on.

Nasir was flabbergasted. “You would not!” He cried.

“Now that I have thought more about it, no I would not. Because eventually you will kill him yourself.” She responded assuredly.

“No.”

“Yes, you will. A young lamina, alone with no mentor and no control. It is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Why are you saying these things to me?”

“Because you are determined to make this mistake and I know that there is little I can do to stop you. I had such hopes for you and your immortal future but you will not let go of your mortal life. This war will either destroy your body or your soul.” She reached out and touched his hair.  "I want neither for you. Whether or not you believe it, I care for you Nasir."

At last, he finally understood what Pandora was trying to tell him. “I hope you did not harken to Murillo’s suggestion that I am ungrateful. I am not. You have given me a wondrous gift and I do not take it for granted.”

“It is good of you to say.”  She said. “You should go and feed now, outside of the gates. I fear that it will be difficult to control your blood lust once inside.” She said no more. As he began to prepare to leave, Plannis called after him, “Nasir!”

“Plannis, the hero.” He greeted him with the slightest smirk.

“You are starting to remember more.” The boy told him.

“Yes I am. I remember what a brave and intelligent young man you are. Stay close to Pandora and watch over her.”

“Why are you leaving us? I told Pandora when I saw you that you would be a good lamina.”

Nasir was floored. So not only was Plannis Pandora’s spy and daytime familiar, he was a recruiter for new immortals.

“Apologies for disappointing you. Perhaps the next one you meet will be more suitable.” He left the child standing with his maker and headed towards the city.


	6. The Third Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nasir enters the rebel enclave but he is not alone. The mystery deepens for Spartacus and Agron begins to put things together. Naevia is involved is major decision.

After careful deliberation, Nasir decided that trying to enter through the front gate of the city was too risky. He knew that since Agron was back with the rebels, news of his “death” would have spread. He was in no mood to explain his sudden resurrection to his comrades. He was unsure how they would accept the news. Depending who was on guard, they would either try to kiss or kill him. Instead he slipped into the city from south, where the docks were located. Moving faster than the mortal eye could discern, he arrived beside narrow archway that led to some stables. The rebel guard who stood just inside looked around briefly, thinking he had seen something but found nothing. He figured one of the Roman captives that was settled in the corridor had moved and continued his patrol.

Nasir following Pandora’s instruction, fed before he slipped into the city. The blood of a now deceased old hawker who had been his way home with no idea that the city had been invaded had quenched his initial thirst. However, standing in the mouth of the archway and seeing the row of bodies chained together reignited it. As he walked past them, he could hear the collective pounding of their hearts and wonderful rushing sound of their blood moving through their veins. He actually stopped in mid stride because the desire to rip into flesh and devour blood had overwhelmed him. The prisoners who had bothered to pay attention to him tried to beg him to either feed or free them. One bold fool grabbed his robe and began to yell at him. Enraged, Nasir grabbed to man by the throat and slammed him against the cobbled wall of the corridor. His eyes gleamed yellow. The other captives squealed in terror and cowered away. He recovered quickly and dropped the man before the attention of the guard could be drawn by the noise. He rushed out of the corridor as fast as he could.

He was gasping as he leaned against the wall of an abandoned and burned out bakery. Although his hood covered his face, the part that was over his mouth moved in and out in beat with his rapid breaths. He was angry at himself for losing control; he hated that Pandora was proven right. How was he going to keep himself from gorging on the fresh bodies that overran the city? The narrow streets teemed with rebels, Romans and others who stood to profit or perish. What trouble could they bring to him! Once he had calmed down somewhat, he started to walk again. He had no idea where he was going though. He was jostled aside roughly by a bald, pale fellow with a reedy frame and dressed in battle leathers who growled, “Watch where the fuck you are going!” Nasir was about retort but had to stop himself again. He recognized who it was; it was Britcus, a rebel who had trained with him. He said nothing, lowered his hood further over his face and quickly moved on. He passed a drinking tavern and peered inside. He saw Nemetes throwing back a jug with his arms around a woman whose breasts were uncovered. He shook his head and kept walking. As he navigated through the crowded streets, he recognized more and more people. He was starting to realize how foolish it was for him to wander around. He had to find a place to settle away from inquisitive eyes before the sun rose.

As he set his mind upon finding adequate shelter, he was jostled again. He grimaced and tried to calm himself but he was bumped again. He was seething as he turned to his right to face his tormenter and was shocked to see…

“It is a nice night for walking about is it not?” Murillo grinned at him.

“Fuck the Gods!” Nasir cried. “What are doing here, Murillo?”

“I am watching over you.” Murillo replied in a bored voice.

“I do not need watching! Return to the others.” Nasir said furiously.

Murillo sighed, “As much I would like to, I cannot. I am here on Pandora’s orders.”

Nasir was disgusted, “Pandora? Why would she send you after our parting? I am not some helpless creature who cannot survive without someone at hand. You tell that when you go back to her in Rome!” He exclaimed.

“You do not know Pandora at all.” Murillo said ruefully. “She would not allow her progeny to leave her grasp so quickly-“

“I do not care what she allows!” Nasir shouted as he interrupted the other lamina. “I am not hers to control. I thought I had made myself plain.”

“And you thought wrong.” Murillo said solemnly. “You are her child, made from her blood. You will always be bonded. You are obligated as a recipient of that blood to stay alive and to not alert thousands of rebels to your presence.” He said in a pointedly low voice.

Nasir was not listening. He was still angry and he still wanted to shout. “Which I will have a better chance of doing without you here!  She obviously sent you here to thwart me at every turn in hopes that I would join her again!”

Murillo went back to looking bored. “Am I to be wounded by your rejection of my company? I have my obligations to Pandora and unfortunately keeping you of trouble is part of them. And before you puff up again and flap around like some angry crow we are being watched, so still yourself.” He inclined his head slightly and Nasir slyly looked over his shoulder. He saw Naevia watching them with growing suspicion.

“Not her!” Nasir whispered frantically turning to face Murillo. “Let us depart.” As they both turned away slowly and Nasir hid his face, Naevia gathered her sword and made to follow. They heard her footsteps behind them and Nasir cursed under his breath, “Shit!”

“Do not even think of placing blame upon me for this.” Murillo muttered so that only Nasir could hear.

They continued to walk increasing their pace slightly but Naevia continued to follow them. “We have to lose her.” Nasir whispered as they weaved in and out of the crowds that seemed to line every street.

“I could just simply take her-“ Murillo began.

“No,” Nasir ground out.

“Fine, but enough of this,” He said and grabbed Nasir’s elbow. He pulled him along until their movements could no longer be detected. Naevia found her view blocked by several large rebels and when the street was clear again after pushing them aside, the two men she was following had slipped away.

She gritted her teeth in frustration. She could have sworn that one of the men she was following was Nasir. She had heard about his apparent death, but the man she saw was of similar height and his voice was the exactly the same. She had heard Nasir in the past when he was angry and she knew what he sounded like it. She paused and gathered her thoughts. How could it be that he was in the city now? Should she tell Agron? It had been dark and the man was wearing a hood. But when he had turned his head, the profile…She wondered whether or not she should continue her pursuit. But as the streets began to swell with rebels, whores and hungry Romans she knew that it would be next to impossible to find them again.

Murillo had finally stopped after they rounded yet another corner. Nasir wretched his arms from his grasp.

“We were nearly caught.” He glared at Murillo accusingly.

“No thanks to you and your insistence upon shouting at me. I am a lamina. I can hear just fine.” Murillo responded.

“Then hear this: Stay out of my way.” Nasir said pointing at him. “What Pandora is holding over your head is no concern of mine.”

Murillo scrutinized Nasir disdainfully for several seconds. “What do you hope to do here Nasir? You just ran away from who I can accurately guess was a friend. You have to want to do more than just hide.”

“That is no concern on yours.” Nasir replied hotly.

Murillo’s tone was a soft as possible for him. “You want more than anything for him to feel for you as he did before.”

“Do not speak of Agron to me.”

“He may never understand what you have become, Nasir.”

“Stop,” Nasir warned.

“And if you were somehow reunited, you would still be parted as he ages and eventually dies.”

“Cease talking!” He yelled. “Leave me, Murillo. Just leave.”

“Of course,” Murillo shrugged. “I will go to prepare my shelter that is safe from the eyes of mortals and the sun. I suppose you will be going to yours?”

Nasir was startled out of his rage. “No, I-“

“Do not have one yet?” Murillo queried.

He was flustered. “I was on my way to the stables before you accosted me!”

Murillo put on an expression of mock surprise. “A place made of a most porous material which exposes you to the all the elements and animals. Good choice, Nasir.”

Nasir sneered. Murillo was at his most smug. “I myself have found a temple built to placate Neptune so that ships full of grain would sail safely to the docks. I will provide this interesting tidbit of advice free of charge. Many Roman temples have underground floors where tribute is stored by the temple caretakers. Many are perfectly suitable places to rest.”

Nasir rolled his eyes and willed himself to ask the following. “Where is this temple located?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Are you going to make our time together as difficult and unpleasant as possible?”

“Yes,” Murillo said and smiled.

*****

Naevia was still mulling over what she had encountered. Crixus found her sitting in the doorway of their newly acquired villa the fiddling with a dagger and staring blankly into the night.

“What has seized your thoughts so this evening?” He asked.

She finally stirred and looked up at him as he stood above her. “Many things hold my thoughts: All of these people we need to find a way to feed, the Roman army which is surely racing with the wind to find us here and specters of those who have fallen.” She stopped then and began playing with the knife once more. He sat down heavily beside her. He had been on his feet much longer than he had realized. Although he felt exhausted, he still managed to throw an arm around her shoulders.

“The first two things I can find suitable words to ease such thoughts. But the last…” He looked at her quizzically. “Are the spirits of all the Romans you have killed haunting you?”

She was slightly irritated. “You think of a jape at a time such as this?”

His slightly bemused look was replaced by one of concern. “What did you see that has darkened your demeanor then?”

“I will concede that there was very little light. And the man was wearing a hood over his face but…” She started.

Crixus prodded her on, “But what?”

“His voice sounded like Nasir’s. He was of a like stature and for a moment when he turned his head, from his profile he looked just like him.” She replied nearly squinting as she recalled the encounter.

Crixus sighed lightly. “I know his death was a quite a shock to you.”

“He, Mira and I were bonded because of our pasts as body slaves. We truly understood one another.” She said plaintively. “To have them both gone has been so difficult to deal with.”

“Perhaps that explains why you thought the man you saw tonight was Nasir.” He explained.

“If you had heard him, you would have thought so as well. I have to find him to make sure.” She said. “My mind will remain unsettled until then.”

“Surely you will not go looking for him tonight?” Crixus exclaimed.

“No, the city is still in chaos. Once some kind of order of restored, I will search. I do wonder if I should speak to Agron.”

“I would not.” Crixus said. “He barely returned in time to help us claim Sinuessa because he insisted upon searching sand caves.”

“You braved the mines to search for me.” She pointed out.

“That was because I knew you were alive!” He cried.

“After Nasir told you the truth.”

Crixus gripped her hand. “You know what Lugo said he saw. Nasir fell from a cliff after being stabbed with a sword. If he had not perished from the fall, he would have certainly died from his wound.”

She was insistent. “I know what I saw this night.”

“Now you are trying to convince yourself that man was Nasir.”

“I know what I saw.” She repeated. “But I will not say anything to Agron yet. I know he is needed to further secure the city and I would want to be completely sure. You will help me in this?”

Crixus was perplexed. “I am to help you find a dead man?”  The answer was a furious glare. “Alright, I will help you search.” He muttered.

*****

They were huddled together in corner with their bound hands clasped. His body curled over hers while she nestled in his lap. Sleep had been hard to come by since the invasion by the rebels but hunger and exhaustion had taken over. They did not know that the lamina approached. The older one took the woman while the younger one descended upon the man. They were swept away in a blink of an eye and the killings were near silent. The young lamina felt that familiar rush that he longed for as the blood filled his throat. He caught the eye of the older lamina feeding and they stared at one another as they drained their victims. They quietly dumped the bodies near the sewers and headed off to Neptune’s temple which overlooked the docks.

Nasir always felt clear headed after he fed. When he was hungry, he found that he was often irrational and angry. There was a calmness as the blood provided heat to his skin and purpose to his thoughts. He was ready for some answers. He turned to Murillo who had just descended the stairs to the lower level after securing the temple as best he could with the metal chains he had taken from their victims.

“Why are you really here?” Nasir asked him.

“I told you, it was Pandora who ordered it so.”

“I know, but why you? During the last moon, you wanted to tear me limb from limb so that you could feed upon the rebels I was protecting.”

Murillo waved his hand dismissively. “I would not have killed you, Nasir. It is actually quite a chore to do away with a lamina not matter how old they are. It is not exactly looked favorably upon either.”

Nasir continued to stare at the other lamina until he was compelled to continue speaking.

“I owe Pandora a rather large favor.” Murillo continued finally. He recalled their last conversation:

_“Do you remember what I told you when you came to me for help?” She asked._

_He had placed the lute he had been piddling with down and eyed her warily. “I cannot forget.” He told her. “You remind me so often.”_

_“It is time for you to return favor.”_

_“How abhorrent is this going to be?” He asked contemptuously._

_“It should not be abhorrent at all. Since you wanted to rally for his cause, I could not think of a better candidate to bear the title of caretaker.”_

_He looked alarmed. “Surely you do not mean that I am to coddle and care for your newborn?”_

_She nodded. “Yes, you are to teach him our ways and keep him out of too much trouble.”_

_“Pandora this is sheer lunacy!” He cried. “Why not just bind him a box until you get to Rome? Why are you humoring that little fool?”_

_She smiled knowingly. “I recall someone asking me the same question about you.”_

_He attempted another tactic. “I was just speaking in jest, you know. I do not care one whit about him.”_

_“No you were not. You have an irritating habit of being completely honest with me, Murillo.” She said serenely. “I have taken serious thought to your suggestion that it may not be my place to keep Nasir away from the rebels and his lover. I had not given much thought to what this war truly entails for someone like him. He should be given the opportunity to learn what it means to be an immortal caught up in a mortal world. I shall not deprive him of the pain he will ultimately feel.”_

_“There are other ways for him to learn that lesson, ways that do not involve me.” He exclaimed._

_“Perhaps, but I wanted to be **fair**.” She replied._

_He snarled as she threw his own words back at him. “Where is he now?”_

_“He is on on his way to the city. You should hurry; you do not want to lose him.”_

_“Fuck.”_

 “I honestly do not know what would be worse though; having to endure your mortal dourness or Pandora’s wrath.” He said as he glared at Nasir. “Pandora saved me from near execution. I owe her. As I said before, injuring another lamina is greatly frowned upon. The killing of a maker is expressly forbidden.” He saw Nasir’s look of confusion cut through the darkness of the temple room.  

“You remind me of myself.” He continued and sat down on the stone floor near where Nasir was sitting. “I was in love or so I thought. It was with another lamina. We love to fool ourselves into believing that we are above base, mortal emotions and actions when in fact because we are lamina we feel more deeply. We also act more foolishly.”

Nasir who was slightly aggravated at Murillo for the comparison said, “I do not know what you are talking about. How are we in any way alike? How is my situation the same as your own?”

Murillio gave him a hard look. “I was willing to do anything, even kill for love. My own life meant nothing. I defied my maker and stood against my coven. Does that sound familiar?”

“What happened?”

“She and I were made days apart. How wonderful it was to learn our new gifts together! She was much more reckless than I however, and she was often at odds with her maker. I was so enthralled that I was willing to do whatever she asked of me, even killing her maker.” Murillo said. “I actually tried to. Imagine me, a newborn lamina attempting to murder another that was hundreds of years old. To make matters worse he was the lover of my own maker, Pandora. You knew that did you not?”

“I vaguely remember her saying so when we first met.” The idea that he and Murillo were in some way ‘brothers’ did not appeal to him.

Murillo smirked slightly at Nasir’s response. “Pandora risked a great deal in defending me. To say that I was an unworthy progeny would have been a great understatement. But she stood up for me against Marius, her own maker and left the coven in Rome with me to save my life. She may not always have my understanding, but she will forever have my gratitude.”

“You tried to kill the maker of your maker? You were a fool.” Nasir quipped.

“And you want to overthrow an empire. Who is the bigger fool?” Murillo asked. “Nonetheless, you are Pandora’s new child and she wants you protected; even if it means from yourself.”

Nasir was quiet for a while. Maybe he was a fool for staying in the city in hopes of seeing Agron again even after telling him to forget what they were. But he just could not see himself living in Rome and witnessing its depravity for an eternity. He was no longer caught between the two worlds. His decision had been made. He would do everything within his power to keep Agron alive; whether the German liked it or not.

“If you insist upon staying, we need to strike a deal.” He said finally.

“You have nothing with which to strike a deal!” Murillo said surprised. “I am not here by your request and you are not strong enough to compel or stop me from doing anything.”

Nasir fumed. “Fine, I have a request then.”

“I will probably not be inclined to regard it, but continue.”

“As long as you are in the city, I ask that you not prey upon the rebels.”

Murillo gaped at him. “Request denied!”

“Why? There are plenty of Romans tied in the streets to feed upon. I can hardly try to save my friends when I have to fret over you murdering them!”

Murillo laughed. “Worry over yourself. You can barely contain your own bloodlust but you are concerned with mine. Will you be able to stop yourself from tasting Agron’s flesh in the heat of passion? What will keep you from bleeding him dry when his hot flesh, throbbing with life and blood is heaving and panting under you?”

Nasir didn't answer as he stood up and went to adjacent room. He no longer wanted to hear Murillo’s voice or see his sneering face.

*****

Spartacus had left his villa at first light and was shortly joined by Agron. The new day had brought about a new set of problems. Nemetes was rumored to have been extorting the prisoners for their gold. Food was running short already and several skirmishes had broken out between rebel factions over living quarters and access to water. The streets were beginning to fill with offal and the stench was starting to carry. They could hardly afford an outbreak of sickness at a time like this. He was too distracted to speak to his general and nearly ran into a young man who was fast approaching him.

“You can skip over piles of shit but you cannot stop yourself from ramming into a man standing in front of you?” Agron growled at the youth.

The boy literally jumped at the tall German glowering at him. “Apologies, I meant no offense. I was sent by Gallipor to fetch Spartacus.”

“For what reason?” Agron demanded.

The boy looked at Spartacus warily. “He said that he has found more bodies.”

The medicus was bent over the body of a middle aged female that lay on a stone table when Spartacus and Agron found him. A makeshift morgue had been built inside a raided butcher shop. Agron recoiled at the sight of old and new splotches of blood that covered the walls as he stepped in.

“Gallipor, you sent for me?” Spartacus asked.

“Yes,” the old man replied hardly glancing at the rebel leader. “It seems as if the mystery assailant has followed us into the city.” He moved aside and pointed to the woman’s neck. Spartacus came forward to take a look. There were two puncture wounds near her jawline. He straightened up and pointed to the body of the man which was on the floor. “The man as well?”

Gallipor nodded. “I was curious as to how all of them had died. The puncture wounds themselves do not look deep enough to be fatal. But when I cut open the chests, I found that there was hardly any blood left in the bodies. It was as if it had been drawn out of them.”

“How is that possible?” Spartacus whispered in horror.

“I do not know.” The medicus said shaking his head.

“What is happening?” Agron queried.

“Since the battle with Cossinus’ troops, Gallipor has been discovering bodies with these wounds.” He moved the woman’s head to the side so that Agron could get a better look at the ones on her neck.

“I am also convinced that there have been more. I just had not noticed because they had been involved in battle. It looks as if our murderer is an opportunist. These two are Romans. The rest had been part of our camp.” Gallipor stated.

Agron moved closer and nearly gasped as the memory of seeing Nasir and the other beings who they encountered at the outskirts of camp with bared fangs. A sick feeling washed over him and he turned and left the building quickly. Spartacus was too stunned to stop him and when he came across Agron a bit later, looking pale and breathing heavily he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Agron had been involved in many battles and had killed scores of men. What had shaken his general so?

“Agron?”

Agron attempted to gather himself together. “What did we need to attend to next?” he asked.

“What happened back there? Why did you rush out?”

Agron shrugged, “It was the foul smell of the place and I have not eaten well since I have arrived here.” He tried to smirk. “My pride is more wounded than anything. I am fine now. I just needed some fresh air.”

Spartacus was less than convinced. “Are you positive that is all?”

Agron nodded. “Yes, there is nothing else.”

“Agron if there is something, you can share it with me.”

Agron blinked. “I do not have anything to say. But if there is a time in future when I may need an ear, I will come to you. Shall we continue?” He gestured to Spartacus to lead the way to the main square.

*****

Night had fallen but the moon was obscured by voluminous clouds and a thick mist from the sea. Every single torch available had been lit within the city but vision was still limited. Those that braved the night squinted and moved slowly through the streets. The lamina who walked among them had no such problem. Their keen vision allowed them to cut through the cloud and cover. They were on the hunt and ready to find available prey.

Nasir had entered an alleyway right off the docks in order to find a cowering Roman in chains. He was dismayed to not find one. It seemed as if the rebels had moved them to a more central location in the city. If that was the case, it complicated matters slightly. He knew Murillo was following him and that the older lamina was smirking over his dilemma. As they made their way towards the illuminated main street, Nasir lowered his hooded head. The brightness of the torches actually hurt his eyes. He maneuvered quickly through the throngs of people in order to find a group of captives. As he turned the corner, he heard Murillo at his ear,

“I really wish you would try to expand your palate.” He said.

Nasir sighed. “We have discussed this Murillo. My mind is set.”

“You have no idea what you are missing. Romans are so…bland. The rebels have something for every tastes: Spicy Gauls, sour Germans, bitter little Syrians.” He playfully thumped Nasir’s head when he said that. He then stopped suddenly and said, “And Phoenicians.”

Before he could react, Nasir held a yell in the near distance. He turned around and saw something that made his breath catch in his throat. Murillo had caught Naevia and held her by her neck against a wall.

“Murillo let her go!” He shouted.

“So do you know her or not?” Murillo demanded as Naevia choked and struggled against him.

“Yes,” Nasir answered frantically. “Release her.”

Instead, Murillo pulled her from the wall and forced her to kneel at his feet. She grunted as he pulled her head back by her long hair, exposing her neck.

“No!” Nasir yelled.

“There you go, shouting at me again.” Murillo drawled. “Are you that starved? Do you want to feed first?” He pulled Naevia’s head back further and she whined. “Come on then. Take her.”

Naevia’s hard gasps were like roaring drumbeats in his ears. He saw the large vein in her neck expand. It was as if it was a perverse invitation. He could not seem to stop himself as he came closer to her. He reached out and stroked her hair. He could literally taste the sweet saltiness of her skin. He bared his teeth and bent his head towards her neck. She raised her arm then and tried to stab him with her dagger. But he caught her hand and twisted it until the dagger fell with a clatter on the street.  She wailed in pain and her cry seemed snap him out of his trance.

“Naevia,” he breathed. He let go of her hair and placed his hand against her cheek. She stared at him in wide eyed horror. “Nasir?” She whispered.

“Please, I did not mean it. I did not mean to hurt you.” He continued to stroke her face. He was full of shame and fear at the fact that he been seconds away from killing his friend.

“Nasir,” she sobbed. “What has happened to you?” She reached out and pulled the hood off of his head.

He backed away from her. “You need to leave and quickly.”

“Now wait a moment. What of me? What shall I feed on?” Murillo demanded.

Nasir warned. “If you touch her again, you will deal with me.”  He turned his attention back to Naevia. “Go now.”

Naevia stood trembling. “What has happened to you?” She cried again.

Nasir closed his eyes. It was taking all of his strength to keep himself from attacking her. “Leave!”

“Come with me,” she pleaded. “I will take you to Agron. You know he would move the world to help you. You do not have to do this!”

Nasir shook his head. “No, I cannot. You need leave Naevia.”

Naevia, “Nasir, please-“

Nasir’s eyes began to glow yellow. His fangs had completely descended. “GO!” he bellowed.

She stumbled away, scared out of her mind. Her closest friend had turned into a monster right in front of her eyes. Before she was able to turn away and run, Murillo grabbed her arm. She screamed but Nasir wretched his arm away and she ran off.

Nasir slammed Murillo into the wall with so much force, a large crack formed. “I will rip your fucking heart out!” He gritted out. Murillo merely smiled and plucked Nasir’s arms away.

“You could try.” He said in a bored voice.

“If you ever do that again, I will do more than try. I will find other shelter from now on. Stay the fuck from sight!” He stalked away as Murillo called after him. He did not respond as he pulled the hood over his head and disappeared into the darkness.

*****

Naevia tripped and nearly fell as she ran in the direction of where she last saw Crixus. They had agreed to split up in their search of the two strangers. She had headed west and he east. She was unsteady as she hurried through the streets calling for him. She passed Gannicus and nearly collapsed in his arms as he attempted to stop her.

“Crixus,” she gasped. “I must find Crixus.”

“Sit here.” He gestured to a large bench where he and a few other rebels had been sharing some food and drink after a round of guard duty.

She shook her head. “No, I need to find him.”

“I can get someone to find Crixus. You sit and recover your breath.” He took her by the arm and forced her to sit.

She put her hands in her head and began to shake. She could not believe what she had just been through. She had been so close to death. She heard Gannicus order one of the rebels to find Crixus and bring him back to them.

“Naevia, take this.” Gannicus said and put a cup of wine in front of her face. She took it without really thinking and drained the entire cup in a couple of gulps. She held it out and he refilled it only for her to empty it again.

“What fucking happened? You look as if you have come across a garrison of Romans.” He asked.

“I wish that had been so.” She let slip. Before he could question he further, Crixus came rushing forward.

“Naevia, what is it? What has happened?” He kneeled in front of her.

She grabbed his arms. “I saw him.” She said quietly.

“Who did you see?”

“Nasir.”

“Naevia-“

“It was him. He called me by name!”

Gannicus was thunderstruck. What was Naevia prattling on about? “Naevia, you could not have possibly seen Nasir. He is dead.”

She glared at him. “No, he is not. He is here in the city and he just attempted to kill me.”

The others gasped. She grabbed Crixus again. “I need to tell Agron, now!”

“Perhaps you should rest.” Crixus said soothingly.

“Perhaps you should open ears because we are all in danger!” She stood up. “If you choose not to believe me, remain here. I shall find Agron on my own!”

*****

Agron had chosen to guard the front gate himself rather than assigning someone else to do it. He needed to do something in order to distract him from the disturbing events of the last few days. He was literally reeling after seeing the bodies with the neck wounds. Although his heart felt that Nasir or whatever he had become was incapable of hurting someone like that, his head and eyes told of something else. It was all starting to come together; the strange woman who seemed to be the leader of those creatures and the little boy. Nemetes telling of seeing Nasir lick blood from the sword. Nasir himself appearing from nowhere with glowing eyes and fangs. He could only conclude that Nasir and the creatures with him were the ones killing those people and draining their blood.

Gods, he gasped and looked skyward. His love, his light, had been turned into some fiend that stalked, killed and drank blood. The cruelest part was that he had been turned into a darkly beautiful substitute. One made to lure, capture, and kill.  His heart seized knowing that the man he knew and loved no longer existed. The most pressing issue now for him was to find a way to destroy the thing Nasir had become. He knew if he remained silent and refused to act, everyone in the city could be in peril. He thought he heard his name being called, but he ignored it. He had much to think about it and he did not feel up to talking with anyone at the moment.

“Agron!” A voice rang out in the misty darkness.

Agron sighed and yelled “Who calls for me?”

“It is Naevia and Crixus! Come down! We need to break words!”

It was Naevia who was shouting at him and she sounded frantic. What was happening?  Were they under attack? He grabbed a rope and slid down the wall until he hit the platform where the wooden gears that operated the gate were. He saw Naevia and Crixus standing near the gate. Crixus was holding a torch. He hopped off the platform and joined them.

“What is the matter? Have we been breached?”

Naevia looked at Crixus nervously. “Yes we have, in a way.”

Agron grabbed the hilt of his sword. “Where are they? We will need to call reinforcements.”

“I do not know how we will be able to fight these invaders.” She said.

Agron scowled. “What riddles do you speak, Naevia?”

“She is not speaking in riddles.” Crixus said.

“Agron, I have seen Nasir.” She said suddenly.

“Where? He has entered the city?” Agron cried.

Naevia peered at him. “Do you know of what I speak? You did not claim that he is dead as Gannicus did. What do you know?”

Agron flinched. “I know of a monster that looks much like Nasir, but it is not him. Where have you seen him?”

“She said near the docks.” Crixus replied. “She said he attempted to kill her.”

Agron lowered his head. “You are fortunate to be alive. We need to speak to Spartacus and the others now. There is much I need to tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, enjoy. Comment! Comment! Comment!


	7. The Third Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spartacus has his hands full with trying to protect the Romans and deal with new invaders to the city. Murillo tries to keep his distance but can't. Nasir and Agron meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sleep of the dead"--A phrase describing the dead like sleep of the vampires during the day.

A sword landed on top of the pile of documents and maps with a heavy thud. “Are you certain that the man who attacked you was Nasir?” Spartacus asked.

“Nasir was not the one who attacked me first, it was the other one.” Naevia answered.

“There was another one? Who was he?” Crixus demanded.

“I have never seen him before but Nasir called him Murillo.” She replied.

“Nasir did not hurt you then?” Lugo asked her.

“He only wanted to rip my throat open.” She groused. “But then he stopped and told me to run away.”

Lugo said assuredly, “So he did not hurt you. Nasir is still one of us.”

“Lugo, he may not have killed Naevia but he has murdered others.” Agron said. “It seems as if he has brought company along.”

Gannicus who still thought that everyone in the room had drank a bad batch of wine and was seeing things asked, “How many of these things are here? Are we going to have to battle an army of them as well?”

“I saw four” Nemetes said.

“No, it was more.” Saxa piped in.

“I believe I saw six.” Donar replied.

“There were seven.” Agron said.

“Fuck the Gods,” Gannicus muttered. “You have no fucking idea.”

“We may not, but we do know this: Each has the strength of ten men but move as silently as cats. They have fangs like animals and they devour blood. They may not be as large as an army, but we have little chance against them.” Nemetes barked. “We need to leave or we will be at their mercy.”

“And where are we to go with Rome bearing down upon us and winter coming?” Crixus yelled. “I say we find these fucks and take off their fucking heads. Anything that is alive can die, anything!”

“We would kill Nasir too?” Lugo asked quietly.

“THAT THING IS NOT NASIR!” Agron screamed and all fell silent. He drew himself up to his full height. “We split into groups of at least ten and patrol every corner of the city. If you see any of those creatures, fight with everything in you. Kill them all.”

Spartacus stood up from the table where he sat. “I am in agreement with Agron’s plan. Let us find these things and destroy them.”

And with that directive, the rebel leaders set out to search the city, street by street and building and building.

*****

It had been hours into their search and they had found nothing so far. The group led by Agron was patrolling the docks. It was a rather large group because Spartacus had insisted that Agron should have extra protection just in case Nasir came for him. Agron did not argue but he did not believe that the monster in Nasir’s form wanted him. If it had been so, he would have sought him out immediately. He figured that there was something else planned for him. He wished he knew what it was. The mist from the water seemed to grow denser as each hour passed. The torches could no longer cut through it so they did not immediately see the body floating near the edge of the docks. It wasn’t until they heard a gentle thump in the water from the corpse banging against the wooden post did they notice.

“Look in the water!” someone cried. They all leaned over and saw the body.

“Grab some rope and a couple of those abandoned oars over there.” Agron commanded.

After much struggle, they managed to pull the body up onto the docks. The dead man was a rebel. Agron checked the man’s neck and saw the telltale puncture wounds.

“Shit.” He cried, “Weapons at the ready! I want every crevice of these docks covered.” The warriors who surrounded him did as they were told. “Stay close, and attack all that moves.” he warned. His heart rumbled inside his chest as he and the other rebels scanned the docks. They could only see themselves within the circle of light their torches provided. The thick mist obscured everything else. Agron could not help but think he and the others were standing targets. He was correct. They were being watched by a figure in the distance. From the steps of the temple of Neptune, Murillo spied the rebels stumbling over one another on the docks. He could have easily taken any of them if he were so inclined. He recognized the tall, brown haired man in the center as the one Nasir tried to protect from him and the others at the camp.

“That must be Agron.” He said to himself. He could have easily slipped in through the fog and decimated the entire lot but he remained where he was. That was not part of the plan. Nasir had to be the one to destroy the relationship, not him.

*****

On the north side of the city, Spartacus and his group encountered a shivering crowd of Romans. They were huddled together from fright, not the cold. Spartacus asked them, “What did you see?” When they did not answer he yelled, “Speak!”

No one dared to say anything but one man pointed down the dark alley with a trembling finger. Spartacus followed it with his torch and thought he saw a form near the far wall but he couldn’t be sure. He started to walk down the hall and he heard a whisper behind him, “Careful!” He slowed his pace and waited for the other rebels to join to him. He pointed his torch towards the shadows and he saw a leg, and then an arm. Soon the rest of the body was bathed in the light of the numerous torches. She was propped up against the wall and she was dead; Spartacus could already tell. He went to the body and turned her head. There were marks on her neck. He went back to the terrified Romans and began to interrogate them. All they could tell him was that a hooded figure suddenly appeared in front of them, grabbed the woman and then quickly disappeared. They heard a scream in the distance and then nothing. Spartacus commanded the other rebels, “Continue the search!”

Nasir could hear the thundering footsteps and the shouts from his hiding place. He couldn’t believe what a mess he and Murillo had made of things, Murillo especially. He had to think of a way to rid himself of the other lamina, otherwise he would never be able to approach another rebel again. He was certain Agron was one those running around the streets hunting for him. Everything had turned out so…wrong. He remembered Pandora asking him if he wanted to live and he did. He wanted to live so that he could see Agron again. What made him think that it would be as easy as him just walking back into the rebel fold as if nothing had occurred? There was a price that had to be paid and he realized that the cost was becoming too high.

He sat down on the floor in a stuffy, dark, wine cellar located in an opulent villa in the city. It was far enough underground so that no sunlight could enter. The rebels had already picked it clean so that the vast shelves were empty. He had secured the door with a chain taken from the Roman woman he had fed on. Taking her life was the only action he had not regretted that night. She had cursed him and called him a “filthy animal.” In his rage he drained her almost dry and had enjoyed every minute of it, it made him almost forget that he had nearly killed Naevia.

He shut his eyes but he could not rid himself of the sight of Naevia’s horrified expression. It was the same look the Roman woman had given him before he killed her; he received the same look that Agron as well. They all looked at him as if he were some savage. Pandora was proving herself right again. He had to rethink his purpose. He knew now that he could not attempt to speak to Agron as he had planned to, considering it was very likely that he would probably attempt to cut him in half on sight. He took a deep breath, leaned back against the wall and waited for the sleep of the dead to overtake him.

*****

After a sleepless night spent on a fruitless search, Agron was literally dragging as he went to meet Spartacus near the blacksmith's shop. He shuffled slowly as he made way for the lines of Romans being led to yet another location in the city per Spartacus’ orders. He felt that they would be safer if they were all together in the main square under heavy guard. Agron saw the logic in that decision but he did not see the feasibility of keeping the remaining prisoners. Firstly, it was becoming nearly impossible to feed them and the rebels. Secondly, they did not have enough skilled fighters to stand guard, protect the gates and train the new recruits. Agron was of a mind to send them all from the city. If they happened to be at the mercy of Nasir and the other creatures so be it, better them than the rebels he thought.

He saw Spartacus chastising Lugo for roughing up one of the captives. Then Donar appeared and reminded them that the cook was wailing for more grain to make bread, grain they were quickly running short of. After their visit with the blacksmith who was now making weapons for the rebels, they made their way to the building where the grain was stored. When they entered the storage shed, the sight of empty shelves greeted them along with the strong smell of pitch. In his attempt to allay the rebel attack, the Aedile had doused several piles of grain bags with the thick black sludge. Before Spartacus ended his life with a spear to the gullet, he had tried to set fire to the city’s entire grain supply. When Spartacus asked how long the current supply would last, Donar provided the beautiful news of two weeks.

Agron cursed loudly and wished that he had never left his pallet that morning. In two weeks, they could either all be starving or dead from having their blood drained. He cursed again and said, “I feel I have some fault in this.”

“How do you figure that?” Spartacus asked.

 He looked away and said quietly. “When I saw…Nasir or whatever he was in that field. I should have known something was wrong then. Maybe if I had acted then he would not have followed me. Perhaps if I had not clung so much to foolish hope, I would have been more of a help when we took the city. And then not to share what I witnessed before he went after Naevia!”

“The fault does not lie with anything you did or did not do, brother.” Spartacus said and he placed a hand on Agron’s shoulder.  “This is something beyond all understanding. And do not feel ashamed for holding on to hope. Sometimes it is the only thing that makes sense in a world that is often senseless.” He sighed and viewed the bags of ruined grain. “I am holding on to hope that fortune will soon turn towards our favor.”

After saying that, Saxa appeared at the doorway. “Spartacus! Ships come!”

Agron shook his head, “Not more unwanted visitors.”

*****

There was a decidedly tense feeling in the air when Nasir sneaked out of cellar at sundown. The streets were nearly deserted save several pairs of rebels marching together with their weapons drawn. Nasir moved more carefully than usual because it was obvious to him now that they were on the lookout for him and Murillo. He briefly wondered if he would run into the other lamina. He certainly did not want to. Murillo had caused enough tumult.

He stayed off the main street, preferring to snake through the alleyways and corners. They were all clear of prisoners and Nasir began to fret over how he would feed. He was determined to maintain his rule of not preying upon a rebel but his thirst was threatening to overtake him. As he approached the center of the city, he smelled the unwashed bodies of the captives who were now all chained together in the main square. Hundreds of them sat or stood together as rebel guards glowered over them like sentinels. He silently cursed his misfortune and thought that he might have to actually leave the confines of the city after all. He then heard distant peals of laughter and glided past the square. His movements were too fast for the guards to notice but several prisoners turned in his wake after feeling him brush past them.

Hiding behind a pillar, he watched as the rebel leaders drank and cavorted with several strangely dressed men. He saw Gannicus guffawing heartily with a drink in his hand. Crixus and Naevia were reclining together in large chair quietly watching everyone. Nasir’s gaze lingered upon Naevia. Although she looked relaxed, his enhanced vision showed that her face was decidedly strained. He scanned the rest of the crowd and noted the presence of Spartacus, Nemetes, Lugo, Donar and several others. But he did not see Agron. He checked behind him again and had started to move closer when he spotted one of the strange men stumbling from the crowd and into the nearby alleyway. Nasir’s eyes began to grow yellow as he made to follow.

*****

The man’s blood must have been completely made of drink because Nasir found himself stumbling back into the alleyway after getting his fill. He unwittingly pulled the hood from his head to alleviate the rising heat that flushed his face. As he heard the swell of noise coming nearer to him, he tried to slip out the alleyway lest he risk discovery. He lowered his head and attempted to sneak away but he bumped into someone. He automatically said, “Apologies”.

The dark man recovered quickly and gave him a broad smile, “Share drink and see them accepted.”

Nasir was taken aback momentarily but shook his head, “My cup is spoken for.” He made to move away but the stranger grabbed his arm. It was a rather bold move and one the man usually did not make, but he could not let one so captivating get away. He had never seen such a beautiful creature. His eyes were hazel and his hair was of the deepest black and shimmered in the moonlight.

Nasir stiffened at the contact and was even more put off by the stranger’s next words. “I seek not to claim it as my own but simply grace lips with its nectar.”

“You are bold of words, and even bolder in action.” He said and removed his arm firmly from the man’s grasp.

The stranger held up his hands. “I meant no offense. I have been too long at sea among rough company.”

“Where are you from?” Nasir asked. He did not recognize the man’s attire or his accent.

“If I told you, would you hold it further against me?” The man smirked.

“I am sure there are far more things about you that cause offense other than where you hail.” Nasir bit out.

The man laughed and backed away. “I am a Cilician. Where are you from so that I may judge you accordingly?”

Nasir face became a cold mask. “I am from nowhere.”

“Are all the men from nowhere as alluring as you are?”

“You do not want to know.” Nasir replied and attempted to leave once again.

The man blocked his path. He stared in Nasir’s eyes. He could feel himself becoming lost in them and there wasn’t a better a sensation. It was better than drinking. It was better than fucking.

“Move aside.” Nasir said in a low voice.

The man was in a trance. “I cannot. I want to go where you go. I want to be wherever you are.”

Nasir’s eyes began to glow. Then a voice cut through the darkness.

“He will only kill you.”

Nasir turned and saw Agron standing in the mouth of the alleyway. The Cilician sneered. “I can certainly tell you are from East of the Rhine because you are forever where you are not wanted.”

“I am trying to save fucking life. Leave if you value it.” Agron growled and drew his sword. The Cilician began to draw his but Nasir glared at him and said. “You need to go, now. This is between us.”

The man took his hand away from his sword. He looked at Agron and then back to Nasir who simply shook his head and said, “We just need to break words. That is all. Do not concern yourself with this.”

The Cilician finally decided that interfering in what looked to be a fatal fight was not worth it, no matter how good looking the young stranger was. He backed away and made his way back to the party while Agron and Nasir faced off.

“Are you going to kill me Agron?”

“Would you not try the same?”

Nasir was stung. “No, I would not.”

“Let me ask Naevia then.” Agron shot back and lifted his sword.

“I do not want to do this. I only want to break words.”

“There is naught but lies and shit you would speak to me now, fiend.”

“Agron-“

“Do not say my name.” Agron said as he advanced up Nasir.

“I do not want to fight you.”

“No, you want to tear my flesh and drink my blood along with everyone else in the city!” Agron drew back his sword to swing but Nasir was too quick. He ducked the enormous swing easily and grabbed Agron’s arm with one hand and his neck with the other. Agron struggled to free himself but was unable to counter Nasir’s strength.

“You will not call out to the others.” Nasir ground out. “You will come with me.” He bent Agron’s wrist until the German grunted and let go of the sword he was holding. Nasir looked around and saw a light illuminating a doorway of a nearby villa. He dragged Agron by his throat and arm towards the door. There was a man and woman just inside the doorway but they were so busy in the act of copulation that they paid no attention to Agron and Nasir. Nasir continued to yank Agron around until he was able to find an empty room inside the vast villa.

The German’s face was red and straining as he tried to throw off the thing holding him. He had greatly underestimated its strength and was now afraid he would be killed because of it. After Nasir had managed to push Agron through the threshold of the room, he tossed him hard into the opposite wall. Agron crashed into in and immediately bent over and gasped for air.

“We will have those words now.” Nasir said. Before he knew it though, Agron had grabbed a water jug from a small table and hurled it at Nasir. Nasir managed to catch it but then Agron was rushing right towards him. They grabbed one another by their throats and by advantage of leverage, Agron managed to push Nasir against another wall in the room. He drew back his fist and was about to hit Nasir square in the face when his former lover blurted out,

“Do it then. If it will ease some of your pain, then strike me!”

Agron reared his fist back further but then stopped. He suddenly could not see because his eyes began to swim with tears. He let go of Nasir roughly and turned his back.

“Agron-“

Agron shook his head. “No, no you are not Nasir. This is nothing but some trick.”

“Look at me.”

“No. YOU ARE NOT NASIR!” Agron shouted and picked up the table and threw it.

“I have changed; that is true. But my feelings are the same.” Nasir began. Agron kept his back turned. “Agron, you have my heart and you always shall. That will never change.”

“But did you not say that I should forget you and what we were?”

“Yes,” Nasir said in a trembling voice. “I said that because I wanted to spare you. I wanted to keep you safe from the others. I thought the best course of action was for me to leave, never to be seen again. But I cannot do that. I abandoned the others because I cannot leave you and the rebels to fight Romans alone.”

Agron finally turned to face him. “But you and your partners skulked into our camps and our city and murdered us while we slept instead. You lied then. Am I now to believe you? For what reason, love?”

“I never fed on any one from the camp and I have only fed on the Romans since I have been here in the city!” Nasir cried.

“What of the other one with you? Is he your new lover now? Where is he, waiting in the shadows preparing to rip my throat open after our discussion?”

“No! Murillo is not my lover. He’s...he is my brother of sorts. I cannot explain the relationship. And I did not want him to come with me but I cannot make him leave.”

Agron rolled his eyes in disgust. “I have heard enough! I do not understand your purpose for dragging me here. But if you sought to convince me that you are something other than a creature from the underworld, you failed. You are not here to help me or anyone else. We are nothing but prey for slaughter, regardless of your declarations of love.”

Nasir became angry. “I know what I am. Why are the acts you commit so different from mine? You have killed someone nearly every day since we first set eyes upon one another! We have killed together on the field of battle. You take life because it is an act of war. I take life in order to survive.” He paused. “That is the price I have had to pay in order to stand before you now. Otherwise, my body would have been rotting in the sand and my perhaps my soul gone to the shores of the afterlife.”

Agron looked at him coolly. “Your survival depends on drinking the blood of the living.” Nasir did not respond. “Tell me, in order for you to survive and when left with no other alternative, would you feed upon me?”

“No,” Nasir choked out. “I would not. I would destroy myself before I allowed that to happen.”

“You were going to feed on that Cilician were you not?”

“No, I would not have let matters get that far.”

“What of Naevia? From what she tells, you could not control yourself. You only stopped when you heard her cry.”

Nasir held up a hand. “I would have never gone after Naevia. It was Murillo and I tried to stop him.”

Agron shook his head again. “You say you want to help me and the others. Then take your _brother_ and leave this city. Do not return. If you are not the beast you say that you are not and care for me as you proclaim, you will allow me to walk out of here unscathed. I will not mention this to Spartacus for now because we have vital business with the pirates later. We do not have the time to ferry about the streets to try to flush you out. Do I have your word?”

“Agron-“

“Do I have your word?”

“Yes, if that is what you wish.”

“It is what I wish.” He walked past Nasir who stood frozen in the middle of the room. The weight of his failure to turn Agron’s heart began to set heavily on his drooping shoulders. He wanted to tell him everything but he knew it was useless. Agron was not in a mind to hear anything. He knew he could not give up on Agron but he did not know if he could continue to bear the pain of his continued rejection.

Agron trudged out of the villa and slowly made his way back to the revelers but he was in no mood to celebrate. It wasn’t as if he had been before anyway. He did not trust the Cilicians and thought Spartacus was mad for making a deal with pirates of all people. He was not up to making nice with brigands who could easily be in cahoots with the Romans or other enemies. And to top it off, they had to give the shits the majority of their gold just to guarantee one shipment of grain. Seeing Nasir again just made him feel even worse. He leaned against the same pillar Nasir had hid behind earlier and covered his face with his arm. A part of him knew that sending Nasir away was the best recourse but a another part, although a small one, wanted nothing more than to go back to that room and gather Nasir in his arms.

*****

The catacombs were empty when he entered them. He could tell as soon as he descended the stairs and opened the stone door. Pandora had made good on her word and had taken her coven to Rome. He stood in the cool darkness and attempted to still his mind. He even ignored Murillo who had slipped in behind him. He knew the other lamina had been following him ever since he had parted from Agron. No doubt he wanted to know what the two discussed. It was so obvious that he was anxious to find out if he would finally be relieved of his watchdog duties.

“I take it that your conversation with your former love did not go quite as planned.” Murillo chirped. Nasir said nothing.

“I am not one to say, ‘I told you so’.” Murillo began again and Nasir gave him a hateful glare that cut through the dark. “But you were warned that the mortal would be less than understanding of the new nature of your being.”

Nasir merely folded his arms and refused to speak.

“If I were in a mind to suggest something, I would advise leaving this place for good. You do not have to go to Rome. There are covens in Capua, Pompeii and Sardinia. You could go anywhere.” Murillo said shrugging.

There was still only silence.

“Say something, Nasir. I know you want to.”

Nasir did not.

Murillo hated many things and on the top of his list was being ignored. He tried another tactic. “Yes, what I did was deliberate. You refused to listen so I had to act. Are you going to pout like child forever? The girl is fine. There was no real harm done.”

Nasir finally decided to act and hit Murillo with every bit of force he could conjure. The lamina collided into the door with an almighty crash and several stones fell down and hit him upon the head. The other lamina got up quickly. He was seething.

“I will allow you that one hit, Nasir. But if you ever touch me again and damn Pandora’s protection, I will kill you.” He snarled as a cut began to heal quickly at his temple.

Nasir merely raised an eyebrow. “You will try.” He said and walked away.

*****

Just before dawn, they both heard the clanging of swords and the bangs of shields from the nearby beach. Nasir rushed out of the catacombs and clambered up the hill that overlooked the coast. There he saw a battle commence involving the Romans, the Cilicians and the rebels. He tried to spot Agron’s form but found it nearly impossible with all the movement and the noise. As the Roman battalion marched in formation through the sand and began to throw spears at the others, Nasir was almost near the foot of the hill. But then one of the Cilicians threw a torch in the air and fireballs launched from ships anchored off the coast, began to dot the sky. He backed away because fire was no friend to a lamina. He saw Romans ignited in flames and the battle becoming more furious. He had a mind to ignore the flying flames and join the battle but he was stopped by Murillo.

“Let me go!” He shrieked.

“No! Do you not see those flames? It is nearly dawn; you must go back to the catacombs if you are to avoid its rays!” Murillo shouted back holding fast to his arms. While he was trying to pull Nasir away, the Romans suddenly retreated and the rebels rushed back to the city gates.

“Look, Agron and the others are fine. They do not need your help.” He said harshly.

Nasir allowed himself a last look at the departing rebels before being led back to the catacombs.


	8. Inner and Outer Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron and Nasir deal with their inner conflicts while the rebels fight each other as the Romans prepare to strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always giving poor Castus a hard time. Sorry 'bout it.

News had quickly spread over the land that the rebels had taken over Sinuessa En Valle. Day after day, Agron saw the gates of the city swelling with refugees trying to escape from the incoming Roman army. On Spartacus’ orders, they could not be turned away but there were so many they could not all be searched. Just the day before, the rebels had held off an attack from Roman soldiers who had sneaked inside the gates dressed as slaves.

The situation inside the city walls was deteriorating. So many people were not meant to live so close together. Fights broke out constantly. People were beginning to become sick from the poor quality of water and constant lack of food. Sewage flooded the alleyways. The Roman captives were roundly abused by their rebel guards. Tensions had mounted between the leaders as well. Spartacus was becoming more dependent upon Gannicus because he and Crixus failed to see to eye to eye on what the rebellion’s next steps should be. Crixus was anxious to go out to fight whereas Spartacus saw the need to stay put and acquire supplies and weapons for the rebel fighters along with food and shelter for the refugees. Relations had weakened even further between the two generals after Naevia killed the Roman blacksmith, Attius who had helped the rebels seize the city. Gannicus was livid because the man had been a friend. Spartacus was angry because he had struck a deal that he was to forge an adequate amount of swords for the rebel fighters in exchange for payment. The rebel leader felt that smashing the man’s face into a bloody pulp was a poor way to pay him after he had helped them at great personal risk.

Even the relationship between Agron and Spartacus was slightly strained after Agron had waited a couple of days before he told Spartacus about his run in with Nasir. Their last conversation had not been a pleasant one.

_“How long had you planned to not speak of this, Agron?” Spartacus demanded._

_“I was going to come to you after we met with the pirates on the shores. But after the battle with the Romans and everything going to shit here, I thought it best to wait.” Agron said._

_“Your decision to wait was more important than the safety of our people?”_

_“He agreed to leave the city and take the other with him. It looks as if he has. No one has seen him since and the medicus has not told of anymore bodies being discovered.”  Agron responded._

_Spartacus cried, “Except for one of the Cilicians!”_

_Agron looked down, “Yes. And about him, are we still planning to keep that particular death a secret from the rest of the pirates?”_

_Spartacus sneered. “We do not have much choice at the moment. I would not have our only line of supply preventing utter starvation disrupted over ill news.”_

_Agron looked abashed. “Apologies, I should have shared what happened with you. I have to admit, I was conflicted and I still am.”_

_Spartacus’ hard look softened a fraction. “I do understand. But you must not keep such things from us in the future. From everything we have seen, Nasir and the rest of his…people are a mortal threat. As much as a threat as Cassius’ legions, I wager. At least we know how to kill Roman soldiers; we have no idea what to do creatures such as those.”_

_“I know and I will try not to keep anything else from you.” Agron said quietly._

_“You do that,” Spartacus said bitterly._

As Spartacus trudged into the drinking tavern where the pirates were known to hang out, Agron followed in his wake. Although they still had some unresolved issues between them, Agron had agreed to stay by Spartacus’ side for protection. The rebels were on high alert since the latest breach within the rebel stronghold. They also received disheartening tidings that Crassus’ forces were less than day’s march from the city. After talking with the Aedile’s wife earlier, he discovered the extent of Crassus’ cunning. The rebels were being attacked from all fronts it seemed. Spartacus spotted some of the pirates sitting at a table and maneuvered through a crowd of whores busily offering their wares in various stages of undress.

“Where is Heracleo?” He asked them.

As they were explaining the pirate leader’s absence due to his love of drink and cunt, Agron recognized one of the men as the one who was with Nasir in the alleyway. He gave him a hard look as he pushed away an overeager prostitute. The man smirked at him and invited him to sit for a drink. Agron declined immediately. He had drunk with better company in far worse places.

“Well if your friend from the alleyway is unharmed, invite him here. I would greatly enjoy having a drink with him among other things.” The man said with a smile. Agron nearly lunged at the man but Spartacus held him back.

“Please tell Heracleo that we have urgent business to discuss.” He said while keeping a firm hand upon Agron’s chest. “Let us go.” He murmured. The last thing he needed was to deal with cleaning up dismembered heads. He walked out of the tavern quickly with Agron following reluctantly. He wanted nothing more than to snap that grinning shit’s neck.

*****

As the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the horizon, Nasir awakened from his sleep and looked around. He was momentarily confused because he was not in the catacombs. He along with Murillo (much to his irritation) had been tracking pockets of Roman scouts throughout the countryside. They had managed to find a cave that was near the base of a mountain ridge. When they emerged from the opening to greet the new night sky, they spotted endless rows of lights in the distance. Each was equidistant to the other. Nasir had seen formations like that many times, in Roman camps.

“Fuck the Gods,” Nasir cried. “They are less than half a day’s march from the city now!”

“Did they bring ALL of Rome with them?” Murillo asked, mildly impressed. “Spartacus has proven to be quite the adversary if the empire is employing this great a number to defeat him.”

Nasir nodded his head distractedly. “We have to warn them.”

“I’m sure they must know by now.”

“They may not. Even if it were so they would need time to vacate the city.”

Murillo glared at Nasir in disbelief. “You are going back to the city? Agron wants nothing to do with you!”

“This is no longer about Agron. If the Romans attack and the rebels are still in Sinuessa, they will be decimated.” Nasir began to descend the hill.

Murillo called after him. “The rebels have guards and a big gate!”

Nasir called back, “The Romans have ships, catapults and ladders!”

Murillo made the very mortal gesture of wiping his face with his hand. He was that frustrated. He wanted to march to Rome and literally kick Pandora for making him watch over Nasir. For his sacrifice, he had been thrown against a wall, kicked out of a city filled to the brim with fresh blood, cut in the face with stones and nearly burned by pirate firebombs.

“I absolutely despise you, Nasir. Do you know that?” He sneered. Even though Nasir was nearly at the bottom of the steep hill, he had heard his fellow lamina.

“Yes I do Murillo, but are you coming or not? We must feed and Roman blood is plentiful.”

*****

Agron stifled a yawn as he and Spartacus waited for the pirate captain to show up at Spartacus’ lair. Word had been sent by his subordinates that Heracleo was on his way and was anxious to redress the agreement that he had made with the rebel leader.

“Maybe if we douse ourselves with wine and sprout breasts he will walk quicker.” Agron snarled.

Spartacus’ mouth quirked slightly and stared out into the distance. There was a wave of noise that came from west where the center square was located. He told to one of the rebel guards standing by the doorway to investigate the noise and report back to him any signs of trouble. He knew the city was nothing more than a tinderbox, ready to explode at any time.

Heracleo finally swept in the back gate and gave Spartacus an exaggerated bow. “When King Spartacus calls for me, I come.” The man was taller than Spartacus and had black hair that fell in greasy tendrils onto his shoulders. He wore a huge gold medallion that seemed oddly out of place with his ragged shirt, breeches and his dusty boots. Spartacus ignored the obvious mockery and gestured to the seat opposite him at the table. Agron rolled his eyes at the pirate and went to stand by Spartacus’ shoulder.

Heracleo grinned and plopped down on the bench. “Is there no wine?” He asked.

“No,” Agron said darkly.

The pirate scowled. “I am much more agreeable when I have had wine.”

“Unfortunately all I have to placate you with are my words.” Spartacus said.

The pirate shrugged and Spartacus continued. “Heracleo, we need more food. The last shipment you brought was barely enough to feed the city. This cannot be a matter of money.”

“No,” Heracleo shook his head. “Not precisely. You must understand Crassus’ forces have taken over the seas as well. It is very difficult to do business when that Roman cunt is cutting off every sea route. Now I hear that he has given orders to seize any unauthorized ship and all the contents on board. All crew from the vessels are to be killed. These are very dangerous times King Spartacus, you must know that.”

Spartacus sighed. He did know that. “You have sailed these seas for many moons. Surely you know routes that that Romans are unaware of.”

Heracleo measured Spartacus carefully. “I do, but those routes are long and treacherous. Gold alone would hardly be enough to encourage my crew to brave such dangers.”

Spartacus pursed his lips. They had now come to the crux of the matter. “What other incentive would they need?”

“If we had the Aedile’s seal, we could still arrive and depart from almost any port within the empire and beyond unmolested. We could acquire whatever amount of food needed and more…”

Spartacus leaned back away from the table and weighed his shrinking options. “It is worth considering. I will give you my answer before you depart again.”

The pirate did not look completely pleased but he had no reason to doubt the Thracian at the moment. He paid on time and allowed Heracleo to conduct his business as he saw fit. “So be it. Think on it, King Spartacus and in the meantime we will prepare ourselves for departure. Hopefully with the Aedile’s seal in hand. Pardon my suggestion, but your food shortage could be ended if there were fewer mouths to feed.”

Spartacus was firm. “Need I remind you, I am not like the Romans. I will not suffer the rest of these people to endure needless slaughter.”

“I will leave you to your thoughts. I am off to search. I seem to still be missing a crew member. I have not seen Krakos in several days. He is a needed man.” The pirate said.

Spartacus and Agron refused to look at one another. “Are you sure he was not one of those who perished on the coast in the fight with the Romans?” Spartacus asked.

“Yes, all those men were accounted for. The others told me that they never saw Krakos during that meeting.”

“Keep searching the city. I am sure you will find him. If you need assistance, let me know.” Spartacus said evenly.

Heracleo looked confused but nodded. “Gratitude for the offer, King Spartacus. It is very difficult to find good men to helm a ship in these times.”

“I am sure it is.” Spartacus said and chanced a glance at Agron.

Donar burst through the doors then looking harried. “Spartacus, Crixus has gone fucking mad and is killing the Romans!” He shouted.

Spartacus sprang up. “What?”

“What fucking shit is this?” Agron exclaimed.

“Donar, you stay with Heracleo and wait for me to escort whatever Romans I can save inside here. Heracleo for your own safety, I ask that you stay here until I return.”

“Do I have a choice?” Heracleo shrugged.

Spartacus and Agron did not wait around to answer him. They grabbed their swords and ran out into the streets. What met them was sheer chaos. Rebel warriors filled the streets shouting in murderous rage. The pair went further inside the city and stumbled over the fresh corpses of Roman captives. They rushed to the square where the rest of the prisoners were held and were shocked to see Crixus standing over the late Aedile’s wife, a young woman named Laeta. He was preparing to strike her with his sword.

“Crixus!” Spartacus bellowed. “Cease this or you shall fall where you stand.”

“This bitch,” Crixus said pointing at Laeta. “Hid her fellow Romans in her husband’s stables while she lied to our faces!”

Spartacus took in the young woman, who was kneeling in fear. “How is this true? Was not the blacksmith Attius thought to be the one hiding the prisoners?”

Naevia stepped forward. “I did think that but she was caught giving stolen bread to the worthless cunts by Gannicus and Saxa.”

Gannicus who called out from the crowd in a bitter voice, “Yet a fact that could have been discovered without murdering a friend.” He looked angry and had several bruises on his face and arms.

Naevia ignored him and went to stand beside Crixus. “You lay trust with her when she deserved none. She should die.” Several rebels in the crowd raised their hands and roared.

Crixus stared at Spartacus and stepped closer to him. “Naevia is correct. She was in your confidence but yet she betrayed you. She should die by your hand.”

Spartacus shook his head as the clamor of the crowd raised again. “No,” he said.

“Take her life! Why are you protecting the Romans in defiance of your own people? Do this brother, to mend the rift between us. Do this to correct your mistake!” Crixus took a dagger from his waist and thrust it towards Spartacus.

“Is this true?” Spartacus asked Laeta.

She lifted her head. Tear streaks decorated both of her cheeks. “Yes. How dare you judge me for trying to save the lives of people left in this city after the slaughter you led? They were innocent! Kill me if you must. I no longer care.”

Spartacus glared at her but ignored the dagger that Crixus still held. “Agron, take Laeta and the others to the villa and keep guard over them.”

“Spartacus!” Crixus cried.

“My true mistake was placing belief in you, Crixus! You are not fit to lead these people.”

Crixus attempted to charge Spartacus but was waylaid by Agron, Gannicus, Lugo and Saxa. For a few tense seconds the divided rebels faced off. Crixus, Naevia, Nemetes and Brictus stood ready to fight.

Spartacus broke the silence and spoke to the crowd. “Gather the dead. Do not harm any remaining Romans or join those you have struck down.” The surrounding rebels backed away and either began leading lines of the surviving captives (which were very few) or picking up dead bodies (which were many). Spartacus and those who followed him turned and left a stricken Crixus in their wake. The only person who did not look shocked and angry was a young, blonde man by the name of Lysiscus. He had befriended Nemetes the day before when he helped the rebels kill the Roman soldiers who had breached the gates. He was actually grinning from ear to ear.

*****

Murillo had created a game to amuse himself while hunting. He would pretend to be a ghost and would moan and shake trees and bushes to scare the Roman scouts he and Nasir had been following. Once the men were sufficiently frightened and began scurrying about, Murillo would then pounce. Nasir thought it was all incredibly silly and refused to participate. He often wondered during their excursion which one was actually the older lamina. After they managed to corner two wayward soldiers, Murillo attacked and drank from his victim hungrily. Nasir meanwhile, grabbed his man by the throat and began to question him.

“Where are your troops headed?” He demanded.

The man struggled against Nasir’s grip and muttered. “Fuck you, you fucking cunt!” In response, Nasir broke all of the man’s fingers. He did it so quickly and neatly the man did not have time to scream. He just stared at his hands and emitted a high pitched whine.

“I will ask you again, where do your troops head next?”

“South,” the man gasped. “To meet the rebels.”

“When?” Nasir asked.

The man grimaced. “I do not know.”

Nasir snarled and his eyes began to grow yellow. He took the man’s left arm and broke it so severely that the bone poked through the skin. The solider could only sob quietly. The pain was driving him mad.

“You must know when you are to depart.” He said.

The Roman closed his eyes and tried to speak, “I do not. We were told we are to wait for command. There will be a signal.” He finally managed.

Nasir contemplated over that bit of information. “Hmmm,” he said. He was so lost in thought, he nearly forgot his hunger. His victim was at his feet writhing in agony.

“Are you going to kill him or break him into pieces?” Murillo asked.

Nasir snapped out of his reverie and finished off the man. He was less than satisfied though. His thoughts were leagues away in Sinuessa En Valle.

“It does seem strange that they have decided to wait here instead of marching ahead to take the city.” He stated. “This man must have been right; they are waiting for some signal. But what could it be?”

Murillo shrugged. “Perhaps they are waiting for a message from inside the city.”

“Gods,” Nasir exclaimed. “That is what they are waiting for! The city has been infiltrated. I have to go back now.” He got up and began to trek south.

Murillo asked after catching up with him. “Who will you warn? Who in that city will believe you now?”

“I will find someone.” Nasir assured him.

*****

In the days following the massacre, the rift between the rebels deepened. So much so that Spartacus revealed none of his plans to Crixus and Naevia and they grew increasingly angry about it. The only person who seemed to know what Spartacus was thinking or doing was Agron. Even when Spartacus slipped out of the city on a quest to raid Crassus’ grain supply route, Agron remained tight lipped even when interrogated by his colleagues. He could not think of a worse position to be in though. He was caught in the middle of Crixus’ and Spartacus’ battle for ultimate leadership of the rebel army. He understood the rationale from both sides but he vehemently disagreed with Crixus’ decision to massacre the Roman captives.

And in the quiet hours of the night, his heart continued to break over the loss of Nasir. He regretted sending him from the city even though he felt it best to maintain his trust with Spartacus. Still, he woke up each night reaching across his pallet trying to feel the warmth of a body he was never to lie with again. It was torture for him.

*****

They were back at the docks at the south entrance of the city. The place was swarming with refugees, pirates and rebels. Both lamina were able to slip into the city easily.

“The security does not exist.” Nasir fussed. “It is little wonder the city was infiltrated. The rebels do not look as if they are prepared at all for battle. No telling how many Romans are walking the streets.”

“Or lamina,” Murillo quipped. “Are you planning to sound the alarm anytime soon? I am anxious to try these new treats.” He eyed a pair of young, colorfully dressed women who walked past him.

“I need to find Lugo. He may listen to me.” Nasir replied.

Murillo placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “You have not fed properly. You need more blood.” He said as he looked closely into his face.

Nasir shook the hand off. “I am fine. I will not attack anyone.”

“That is not what I meant. You will want a bit more color in your face when you speak to mortals. It makes them more comfortable when you look more like them.”

“I…never mind.”

“It is certainly hard to resist such temptations. Look at them, so warm and inviting. I always love the rush of heat when you taste the first blood of the night. Do you as well?”

“Of course I do.” Nasir said quietly as he watched the mortals pass him. He was becoming distracted. The air smelled different from the last time he was there. The city was more crowded than ever. The hot bodies that brushed against him stirred something within him. He had to stop and lean against the doorway. He wanted to feed again, more than anything. He looked past the crowd and into the main square. He noticed that there were no Romans sitting there.

“Where are they now?” He asked.

“You cannot possibly think of ignoring all of this wonderful flesh to look for a few filthy Romans?” Murillo cried.

Nasir ignored him and moved closer to the square. Even in the dark he could see the faded blood stains on the stone. “What happened here?” He muttered to himself. As if some force heard him, he began to see flashes of earlier events. He saw bodies hacked and dragged away. He heard the cries and the wails of the dying. He blinked a few times and he was back in the present.

“They killed them.” He said.

“Of course they did. Can you not smell the rotting flesh upon the air?” Murillo answered. He walked over the blood soaked stones after being beckoned by dark haired woman reclining in the doorway of the drinking tavern Spartacus and Agron had hit earlier.

Nasir was still standing in the square so still that the inhabitants of the city walked around him with curious stares. He wondered what had happened to have made Spartacus and rest of the rebels lose control and kill their captives. He didn’t have too much time to ponder more over it because a figure staggered in front of him.

“It is you again!” the figure cried.

Nasir scowled in irritation at his thoughts being interrupted. “What?”

“How could you have forgotten me? Did I not provide pleasant enough memory that hopefully made you forget that brute?”

“No,” Nasir said dryly.

The dark man tried again. “We were not properly introduced the last time. I am Castus.” He held out his out and swayed unsteadily.

“I am no one.” Nasir answered.

The man nodded. “You are no one from nowhere.”

“Correct, but I must find someone.” Nasir began to walk away.

“It is a pity it is not me. You know I have been searching for you.” Castus smirked.

“Your search was fruitless.”

“But you are back here. Perhaps it is fate that has drawn you into my company once more.”

“It is the Romans, actually.” Nasir replied stonily. “They are less than a day’s march from here.”

“Everyone knows that.” Castus shrugged.

“Where are the reinforcements then?” Nasir asked incredulously as he glanced around. “Why are there no guards patrolling the docks? Why are the refugees still here and not someplace out of reach of the legion?”

Castus threw up his hands. “Ask your fearless leader. I do not know, nor do I care. Once our ship returns, I shall be on it and sailing away from here.” He leered at Nasir. “You are most welcome to join me.”

Nasir ignored the proposition. “I do not favor crashing waves. I must go.”

Castus stood in front of him blocking his way. “Why are you always in such a hurry to leave?”

“I do not have time to bandy innuendo with you and my patience is as short as my time. Unless you have information to provide about the rebels defense against the Romans, I have to go.” He said.

“Then I wish you luck in finding one to speak with. Right now they are at one another’s throats. It is actually quite amusing.” He chuckled.

Normally Nasir would have resorted to breaking a body part in order to get information, but he decided to try a different tact upon the enamored pirate. He peered closely into the man’s face. His eyes began to glow softly. “What is your meaning?”

The man paused, slack-jawed. “The rebels have been divided ever since a group of them lost mind and went on a rampage killing Romans. Spartacus took the survivors and has them under guard at his villa and then he left on our ship.”

“What?” Nasir interrupted.

Castus shook his head as if he had been under a trance.

“What did I say?” Castus asked looking completely confused.

“Where did Spartacus go?”

Castus stiffened. “I do not know anything about Spartacus going anywhere.” He had been sworn to secrecy of Spartacus’ departure by Heracleo and was slightly mortified that he may have spilled it. He wasn’t quite sure how he did though. Was he bewitched in some way?

Nasir’s eyes glowed yellow once more. “Tell me what you know about the rebels.”

Castus’ face became smooth and his voice was monotone. “Yes.”

*****

Later on after the city’s inhabitants quieted down somewhat after finding places to rest, Nasir sat atop the roof of Spartacus’ villa. He watched as the surviving Romans slumbered. They were huddled together in groups under thin pieces of cloth and furs. The nights grew even colder although Nasir no longer felt the changes in the temperature. There was a faint light that highlighted the doorway of the main entrance but it was soon swallowed up by the shadow of a tall figure. Nasir was quite aware of who that tall figure was. He slid down and lay flat against the angled side of the roof. Only part of his head appeared over the top. Sure enough, Agron walked out of the doorway and did a cursory check before gesturing to Donar. Even though he was whispering, Nasir could still hear him tell the fellow rebel leader that he was going to rest for a bit and would wake at first light. As Donar nodded and walked away, Agron paused. Nasir ducked his head, hoping that Agron did not see him.

Agron had felt something strange as soon as he walked outside. He felt as if he was being watched. He looked around at the Romans but none stirred. He then scanned the top of the roof but he saw nothing. He stood where he was for a few more seconds before retreating back inside the house. There was cause to be on higher alert than usual with the Romans just a piss stream away, but he was certain it was not his imagination playing with him. He made a note to check with Gallipor the next day to see if any bodies were found dumped in or around the city with suspicious wounds on their necks. He did not like to think that Nasir and his friends were back in the city claiming lives but an ever growing part of him longed to see Nasir again.

As he silently slipped from the roof and landed on the ground, he knew Murillo was behind him even before he spoke. For a lamina, Murillo was not the most stealth of his kind.

“Please say that you have not been seeking out your mortal again.” He asked in exasperation.

“I was told some information and I wanted to know if it was true.” Nasir replied, not answering the question at all.

“Spare the coyness for some being that cares.” Murillo drawled. “Come with me, I have some delights for you to sample.”

“I have told you, I will not take the life of a rebel or a former slave.”

“You idiot, have you not listened to me at all since this ill-begotten quest of yours?”

“No, I have not.”

Murillo sighed. “I will overlook that because I know that you are starving and liable to attack the first warm-blooded creature you see. My ignorant newborn, one does not have to kill to feed. You can partake of several mortals and be satisfied without having to deal with disposing of a corpse.”

“You can?” Nasir asked, truly interested.

“It just takes cunning, imagination and restraint, qualities in which you are sorely lacking.” Murillo replied smugly. “Thankfully I am here to instruct you. This way.” He began walking down a dark alley behind Spartacus’ villa. Just a few buildings down, another villa had been turned into a brothel. Although the hour was late, there were still several women willing to ply their trade to paying customers. Nasir stopped short once he saw them. “No,” he said as shook his head.

“Do you prefer a male? I can find you one easily.”

“It is not that. I do not want to feed on any of them.”

“Nasir, they have Greeks, Thracians and my current favorite: Nubians.”

“I cannot. I would try to explain but you would not understand.”

“No I would not.” Murillo said shortly. “Would you rather risk scaling down the wall and snatching a Roman under your lover’s nose? I do not think he would be pleased to see you bleeding out one of his prisoners after promising him that you would not return to the city.”

Nasir shook his head. “I will go back to the catacombs. I am much too distracted to feed.”

Murillo grabbed his arm. “Nasir, a new lamina must feed every night to ensure survival. If you fail to do so, you can become weak and vulnerable to the elements. Your strength and gifts will decline.”

“I will be fine.” Nasir retorted and pulled his arm away. Before Murillo could continue the argument, he rushed off into the night.

He was just right about the scale the rocky ridge that overlooked the docks and led to the catacombs when he saw him. The young man had sandy blonde hair and a pockmarked face. He was in lying prone against two posts on the docks and was in the throes of a dream. Nasir looked around and did not see anyone else. Why did the young man end up at the edge of the water? He looked at the boy and nearly gasped. What lay before him was no longer a human male. The being’s features melted away and Nasir saw a white glowing body with red liquid flowing through it. He could hear the precious liquid sloshing about in his ears. His fangs dropped and before he knew it, he was upon the boy. The young man never awakened from his dream. Nasir set his body adrift in the sea, a league away from the docks and walked slowly towards the catacombs before the first light of dawn broke through.

*****

Spartacus often had the timing of the Gods and his arrival back to the city with stores of grain was welcomed with much relief as tempers had reached near boiling point between the rebel factions. Actual deaths had occurred during the last scuffle and Agron ordered everyone to stay away from each other until Spartacus’ return. The rest of rebels found out about Spartacus’ departure due to the drunken Cilicians and a bitter Nemetes. The rebel leader’s feet had barely hit dry land before he was met with a myriad of complaints.

“I am very pleased indeed that you have mourned my absence so deeply.” Spartacus quipped in an attempt to still the litanies of the complaining rebels. Another rebel came rushing forward on the docks letting him know that Crixus and Naevia were about to lead an attack outside the city’s gates. Spartacus did not even have time to get angry before he had to rush to the front gate to rein in his troublesome general and his woman. When he arrived, he heard Agron and Crixus yelling at each other while the other rebels joined in at a fevered pitch. He thought it was the best time to put the other part of his plan into action. He ordered the gate opened so that the remaining Romans could vacate the city. His announcement was met with shock and consternation. Every surviving Roman was led out of the city but their exit was not met kindly. There were jeers as they were led through the streets one last time. They were spat and urinated on as they walked through the gates. Spartacus escorted Laeta himself to ensure no harm came to her. He did not trust her at all, but he did not want any responsibility for her losing her life while she remained in the city.

Later on, Spartacus and his generals had a true heart to heart about what was really happening within their ranks and what the future held. Agron remained stoic as Spartacus finally revealed his entire plan to split the Roman forces in order to allow the people safe passage through a place called Melia Ridge. Agron still held that the pirates were not to be trusted but Spartacus remained resolute. He was positive that once the Aedile’s seal was in their possession, they would be more than willing to help the rebel cause. Agron was still unsure but did not argue further. There was much work to be done before the Romans finally attacked.

*****

He had searched for days before he finally came upon the one person he was looking for. He followed closely behind Lugo as he and one of the women from the brothel Murillo had attempted to take him into staggered through the streets. He did not like the fact that Lugo appeared to be filled to the gills with drink. What he had to say was way too important to be forgotten by daylight. The woman stood behind Lugo and pushed him inside the door of the brothel and then shut it. Nasir came soon after and knocked softly, still keeping his face covered with his hood.

The door opened and a middle aged woman eyed him. “Are you here for pleasure?” She asked in a highly accented voice.

“Yes,” he said.

“Can you pay?”

His eyes glowed yellow. “Yes I can.”

In the last few days, Nasir had discovered his own particular gift: He could control the minds of mortals. He had first noticed it when he spoke to the pirate Castus the first time. He had finally told Murillo about it and the lamina encouraged him to try it on others. His success was mixed: He had been given ten silk scarves, several gold coins and a few unwanted kisses. He had not however been able to discover what the Roman “signal” would be that would launch an attack. He knew it was imminent. The majority of their troops were still at the base camp but they were sending out waves of scouts each day. Even with his new gift, he was still limited by the fact that most of the refugees were not aware of the Roman plan and that most of the rebels still thought of him as monstrous killer and would not spare the time for a chat. He felt that his last hope was Lugo.

He heard the woman giggle as he strode down the hallway. The place smelled of incense and sex. When he got to the door where he knew Lugo and his new friend were, he rapped on the door.

“Go the fuck away!” A rough voice from the other side of the door shouted. Nasir said nothing and rapped again, a bit louder. He heard the booming steps come closer to the door and it flung open.

“Find your own whore, you shit!” Lugo yelled.

Nasir pulled off his hood. “It is not a whore that I am in search of, friend.”

Lugo gaped at him, “Nasir?”

“Yes, can we break words?” He asked.

Lugo nodded. The woman was reclining on the narrow bed completely naked and not at all in the mood to move.

“You still have to pay for my time.” She said.

“Get out!” Lugo gestured to the door.

The woman huffed and threw her shrift back on. She stomped to door but before she left Lugo told her, “Make sure you come back though.”

She grinned slightly and left, shutting the door softly behind her.

“Nasir! You have come back to join us!” He cried.

Nasir smirked a bit. “In a way,” he said. “Circumstances prevent me from rejoining the fight completely.”

“Why? You are very strong now. You have not forgotten how to fight.”

“That may be but the others do not trust me, Agron most of all.” Nasir said wistfully.

“He will come around,” he cried. “He cares for you. He knows you would not hurt him or us.”

“I do not know if that is the entire truth Lugo. I am capable of hurting him and many more.” He remembered the sleeping youth he had killed days before.

“I will talk to him. I will make him see that you are still one of us, Nasir.” Lugo said bracingly.

Nasir could not help but smile fully at his friend’s confidence. “I do want you to talk to Agron and the others but not about me rejoining the ranks. I have some news about the Romans.”

Lugo grunted, “Those cunts.”

“Yes, those cunts are nearly outside these city walls. They have not attacked yet because they are waiting from a signal from inside.”

“What signal?”

“I do not know. That is what one of the Roman soldiers told me after I…captured him. I believe that the Romans have someone hidden inside the city who will tell them when it is time to invade.”

“Who could that be?”

“That is what you all have to find out.”

 

*****

While Spartacus saw Heracleo off with the former Aedile’s seal tucked securely under the pirate captain’s cloak, Agron was waving off Lugo.

“You could not have talked to him. That is impossible.” He said stoutly.

“How do you know? You were not there!” Lugo bellowed.

“I do know how much you had to drink before you left with that whore.” Agron countered.

“I was drunk, not blind, deaf, or stupid. It was Nasir!” He yelled.

Agron got into Lugo’s face. “Do not raise fucking hackle!” He whispered fiercely. “He is not supposed to be in the city. He promised that he would leave and not return.”

“When did he tell you that?”

“Never mind that! He obviously lied and is now trying influence you.”

Lugo was not deterred. “He wanted to tell us of the Roman spy in the city. If he did not care for us, why would he do that?”

Agron was shocked. “A Roman spy?” he cried. “How does he know?"

"So now you want to hear what I have to say?" Lugo asked crossly. Agron rolled his eyes but did not interrupt. “He said he heard it from a Roman soldier." Lugo continued, "He does not know who it is though. He said the army is waiting for the spy to give the signal to attack. That is why they have not come yet.”

“Fuck the fucking Gods,” Agron moaned. “It could be anyone of these shits we have let in the past few weeks. It could be any one of the shits we let leave!”

“We have to tell Spartacus.” Lugo asserted.

“Of course we do. Should we mention that the information came from Nasir, though?” Agron mused.

Lugo looked puzzled, “Why should we not?”

“For many reasons, trust me.”

Agron patted Lugo on the shoulder and rejoined Spartacus and the Cilician. Heracleo was lamenting the loss of another crew member. Agron breath nearly caught before Heracleo went on to explain that his man Castus was entirely too drunk and unstable to sail. “He keeps going on about some pretty Syrian boy who appears to him at night.” The pirate laughed. “We will get him when we return.” Agron was gritting his teeth by that time. He knew exactly what Castus meant if Heracleo did not. Nasir had been speaking (and maybe some other things) with the Cilician again.

“May good fortune guide you.” Spartacus said.

“Gratitude,” Heracelo said.

Spartacus nodded to his rebel forces who would be leading an attack of Crassus’ forces in Cicillia. They raised their weapons in the air and roared as the ships drifted away from the docks.

“Are you prepared for more ill tidings?” Agron asked.

“Does there seem to be no others at times like these?” Spartacus asked him.

“We may very well have a spy.” Agron said.

Spartacus sighed deeply.

*****

Castus was snoring loudly as he lay sprawled across the top of the serving bar in the tavern where he was found. Agron poked him with the hilt of his dagger but he did not move and did not stop snoring. Agron then threw him on to the floor. Castus rolled over on his back and saw a tall, menacing rebel warrior towering over him.

“What the fuck do you want, shit from East of the Rhine?” Castus growled.

Agron grabbed Castus by the leather straps that crissed-crossed his bare chest and pulled him up. “I want to know what interesting things you and Nasir have been talking about.”

Castus tried to wrest Agron’s hands away. “I do not know any Nasir! Unhand me now, or lose your life!”

“What are you going to do, breathe on me? You do know Nasir! You have been whining to your captain about the Syrian boy coming to you at night.” Agron snarled. “I want to know when.” He shook Castus once. “I want to know why.” He shook him again.

It took several moments before the realization hit. “Oh, you mean that boy who you wanted to fight in the alley. His name is Nasir?”

“Yes it is Nasir! What have you talked about?” Agron began shaking Castus again.

“Stop doing that or I will vomit all over you.” Castus said roughly.

Agron let go of Castus quickly and he swayed for a few seconds.

“Why should I tell you? What is he to you?” Castus asked as he leaned against the bar heavily. His head was pounding and his stomach was in knots. His chocolate brown skin was dotted with sweat that ran down the tan leather pants he wore.

Agron took out his sword. “You will tell me because if you do not, I will run this sword through you. We have reports that there are Roman spies here.”

Castus chuckled. “Do I look like a Roman to you?”

“You don’t have to look like a Roman to take money from them.” Agron said pointing it Castus.

“I came here with Heracleo. I am a Cilician, I am a pirate. I am no spy!” Castus said as loudly as he could.

“Hmmm,” Agron murmured. “We shall see. Until then, you shall be tied up and guarded until your captain returns. Donar, Lugo, tie this fucking piece of shit up and take him to the square.” Suddenly two more rebels appeared and grabbed Castus roughly. His hands were tied and he dragged out of the bar. His protests ignored.


	9. The Fourth Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Romans finally make their move and the spy is revealed. Nasir and Agron think over the choices made in the past and seek to change things.

Nemetes looked at Agron in disbelief. “This lazy drunk is a spy for the Romans? If I had not believed you had lost mind before for listening to Spartacus, I do now.”

The rebel was standing beside Agron who was questioning a chained Castus in the square. Agron glowered at Nemetes and retorted. “I did not think you were paying that much attention to what I did, you being so busy extorting Romans and rebels alike.”

Nemetes began to square up against Agron but was pushed away by Donar. Agron threw him a look of unconcern. He and Nemetes had never been especially close. But since the rebels had taken over the city, he saw a side of the man that he did not like at all. Putting his fist through the blonde man’s face would not have been abhorrent to him.

Agron began to speak while ignoring the glare from Nemetes. “I find it very suspicious that he was left here while the rest of his men set off with Sanus and the others.” Sanus was the rebel lieutenant Spartacus handpicked to lead the assault in Cilicia.

Castus snorted in disgust. “What a load of shit! You are angry because I spoke with the Syrian.” He said. He sat up from his position on the ground and smirked up at Agron.

Agron’s nostrils flared. “You fuck.” He spat out.

“What Syrian?” Nemetes asked. “Who is he talking about Agron?”

“I have seen the rage roil inside you whenever I have mentioned him.” Castus continued to taunt Agron. “Perhaps he prefers the company of a man who does not want to pull a weapon out on him.” Agron growled and kicked at Castus who ducked just in time.

“Agron, still yourself.” Donar cried. “He cannot answer any questions with ribs kicked in.”

Nemetes had viewed the exchange with growing fury. “Nasir,” he ground out. “He is still here in the city!”

Agron did not answer and continued to bore his eyes into the Cilician. He would not have been able to explain if asked why he was so furious with the pirate. But the very thought of him and Nasir being together in any capacity infuriated him.

“He came to warn us about the Roman spy.” Lugo asserted.

Nemetes laughed bitterly, “And you believed that creature? Does he need to have a pile of bodies at his feet before you are convinced that all he wants is to slaughter us all?”

“What is this about a spy?” Crixus asked as he and Naevia came towards them.

“Nasir says that there is a spy in the city waiting to give the Romans a signal to attack.” Lugo said.

“Nasir!” Crixus cried. “What is he doing back in the city and why were we not told?” He asked, glaring at Agron.

Naevia was more concerned about the spy than Nasir’s reappearance. “Who is this spy? What is this signal that Lugo speaks of?”

“He does not know. We have to find out.” Lugo replied.

“This is madness!” Nemetes bellowed. “First he wanted to rip our very throats out and now he wants to warn us against the Romans? What a load of offal!”

“No it is not! Nasir said a Roman soldier told him!” Lugo shouted.

“What did he do to the soldier?” Crixus asked slyly.

“It matters not how he got the information.” Agron said finally. “What matters is whether or not we chose to believe it.”

“I believe it.” Lugo said.

“You would,” Nemetes sneered.

“I do as well.” Agron stated.

Crixus was slightly shocked. “Agron!”

“What he told makes sense. The Romans are a hair’s breath away and yet they have not marched upon us. They are waiting for something or someone. We must find out who and what it is or we will be trapped here.” Agron said.

“Do you think the Cilician knows?” Naevia queried.

“It does not seem likely.” Agron admitted. “I do not like the fact that he was left behind, though. I fear for our safety and we need to keep close watch upon him.” Castus snorted again.

“Well if not the Cilician, then who?” Crixus asked looking around.

“What about your new friend, Nemetes?” Naevia demanded.

Nemetes scoffed. “Lysiscus hates the Romans even more than you.”

Naevia squinted her eyes.“I feel that he is not be trusted. We should break words with him in order to measure his true intent.”

“And your feelings are never wrong, Naevia?” Gannicus asked as he made his way towards the group with Saxa and a young brunette woman in tow.

“I have admitted my mistake regarding Attius.” Naevia stated stiffly.

Gannicus gave her a look of deepest loathing. “It is too late for him. Know this, if you want to act the warrior with me. I will treat you like one.”

“Watch who you threaten, Gannicus!” Crixus warned.

“’Tis not a threat Crixus.  It is a promise.”

After that, things escalated quickly. Crixus and Gannicus were in each other’s faces. Naevia and Saxa were close to blows while Lugo and Nemetes were shouting at one another at the top of their lungs. Agron just stood and watched them with a grim look on his face.

“Enough!” a voice tore through the rancor. It was Spartacus. “What is the meaning of this?” He demanded as he circled them. “We are on the verge of an attack! We cannot afford to have this discord within our ranks!”

Everyone quieted down. Spartacus asked Agron, “Has the Cilician told you anything?”

“Nothing of note,”Agron replied.

Spartacus kneeled down and gave Castus a penetrating look. “Castus, have you had dealings with the Romans? Answer me.” He asked and the brought out his dagger. “Or you will not live to see the dawn.”

Castus knew that the rebel leader was serious and if he did not answer truthfully, his throat would be slit from ear to ear. “No, I have not. As I said many times, I am no Roman spy!”

Spartacus stood up and placed the dagger back in the sheath near his hip. “I believe him.”

Agron looked angry. Lugo then asked, “Then why has he been talking with Nasir so much?”

Spartacus gave Agron a side long glance. The German general had not mentioned his former lover to him. “I do not know.” He replied. “What have you been talking with Nasir about?”

Castus shook his head and said, “Nothing,” He was telling the truth-the truth that he could remember. He could not honestly recall the conversations he had with the Syrian. He only remembered the feeling of grogginess after.

Spartacus saw the earnestness in the pirate’s face. “Release him.” He commanded.

Agron looked aghast. “What?” He exclaimed.

“You should explain to me why you did not bother to tell me that the information about the spy came from Nasir!” Spartacus yelled as he pointed at Agron. “I thought we had resolved this!”

“We did but you and I both know that had I revealed that, the threat would not have been taken seriously! Just look at us! We are fighting amongst ourselves instead of fleshing out the spy! We would rather die arguing than come together and fight. Our REAL enemy are the Romans, not Nasir!” Agron shouted and stalked away.

*****

The night brought more Roman scouts which provided Nasir and Murillo with needed blood. Nasir opted not to enter the city. Instead, he watched the Romans and tried to listen to their conversations. Murillo who had flitted back from the city to where Nasir was hiding near a sand ridge, merely shook his head as he saw Nasir acting as sentry.

“What is your plan of attack?” He asked.

Nasir ignored him and kept watching the soldiers as they changed formations. Something was going to happen and soon. More and more soldiers were appearing and he saw long lines of torches in the distance, forewarning the impending invasion.

Murillo tried again. “You could always take Agron, steal him out of the city and away from harm.”

“He would never forgive me if I did that.” Nasir said.  “His life has been filled with blood and battle. To take him away from it would be like death to him.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Pandora always talks of choice. I chose to become what I am. I have no right to deny Agron his choice to remain what he is.” Nasir said quietly.

“Once the Romans break through that gate, he could very well be killed.”

“I know that!” Nasir barked. “I will do what I can to prevent it, but I cannot deny him the opportunity to fight.  I would be by his side readying myself for battle if things had been different.” He saw Murillo’s fleeting look of disdain. Nasir went back to the night his mortal life ended and thought of the different choices he could have made.

“Or you could have been a corpse,” Murillo said bluntly. Nasir did not reply. He kept watch over the Romans from his perch and continued to wait.

****

Agron dreamt of Nasir as he had been, brown eyed and smiling. He came to Agron and placed a lightly calloused hand against his cheek. His whispered something but Agron could not hear what it was. He was lost in the bottomless pools that were Nasir’s eyes. They kissed passionately and began to disrobe one another. Agron’s lips kept in constant contact with Nasir’s neck. And then they were on the pallet. Nasir’s hands roamed over Agron’s body until he reached his throbbing cock. He stroked it gently as Agron kissed his way down his chest. There were so many sensations: hard and soft, gentle and rough. He felt them all with the sweet tightness of his lover being felt the most intensely. They rocked and swayed together on their sides as Agron thrust in and out slowly. There was no need to rush because they had all time in the world. His hand floated across Nasir’s chest and his heartbeat thrummed through his fingers. It was nearly in time with his own. Nasir craned his neck and kissed again hungrily. He was so close. He thrust even deeper and Nasir tugged his hair. He was nearly there but then he awoke.

He was alone in a darkened room. The cloth under him was wet from his sweat. He closed his eyes again. As his erection faded, he allowed the tears that had threatened to come so many times after Nasir was taken from him to fall. He knew that he was mere hours from possible death and to never see Nasir again seared his soul.

As the morning broke his head felt heavy and his eyes were puffy and red. The first person he came across was Saxa. She took one look at him and grabbed his hand. She lightly stroked his cheek and tugged his short hair gently. He was speechless. He had never seen Saxa be that gentle with anyone before. She smiled at his dumbfounded look.

“Be at peace brother, if only for a little while.” She said to him in German. “Hell and battle are coming. We will not meet them with sadness or regret.”

He took her hand in his own. “Gratitude, sister.” They walked together to Spartacus’ villa to get their orders for the morning. The city finally looked as if it was prepared for battle. Donar had already been given the grim task of overseeing the dressing of the bodies of the slain Romans in the garb of the rebel soldiers. It was Spartacus’ plan to set the bodies across the wall in order to fool the legion into thinking the city was well guarded while they led the women, children, the old and the incapacitated out of the city. As they entered the villa, they saw Spartacus talking with Gannicus who surprisingly was sober and alert. It seemed that the importance of the upcoming battle had not been lost upon the Celt.

“The Cilicians are expected this morning with what I hope are our men and good news.” Spartacus said. As usual, the table Spartacus was hunched over was covered with maps and scrolls. “You two,” he gestured to Agron and Saxa. “Help Donar with bodies. Man the front gate in rotating shifts. No one enters or leaves until I say so.” He barely glanced at them and quickly turned his attention to the largest map on his table.

“Is that all?” Agron asked.

“Yes, Agron. That is all.” Spartacus replied stonily without looking up.

Agron left the villa quickly in a huff. Saxa quickened her pace to catch up with him. “Did you expect him to greet you warmly?”

“No I did not. His response was as expected. He does not understand, no one does.” Agron stated as they headed towards the gate north of the city.

“I am trying to. But just a few days ago, you were leading a patrol of rebels in a search to kill him. Now you tell us we need to listen to him?”

Agron stopped and faced her. “He had many chances to end my life-all our lives but he did not. He tried to warn us about the Romans! I cannot help but think there is still a part of him that cares for…us.”

“You sound like Lugo.” She said skeptically.

“Perhaps Lugo was right and we were wrong.”

“We were not wrong to fear him and the others when they came after us at camp. We are not wrong to drive him away when he attacked Naevia. We are not wrong now for refusing to place full trust in his intentions.” She argued crossing her arms.

“We have much to do. We can ill afford to stand here and argue over this.” He bit out and started to walk again.

“That is because you know that I am right. It will take more than a vague warning to convince the others.”

Agron kept walking and did not slow his pace until he reached the gate.

*****

It was nearly dusk and Spartacus was growing impatient. The pirates had been expected to arrive hours before but as he and Gannicus stood at the docks, there was no sign of them. Without word from Sanus and the others, they had delayed marching the people out of the city towards the path to Melia Ridge.

“Time grows short.” Gannicus stating the most obvious thing in the world to Spartacus.

“If they do not appear by sundown, tell Lugo and Naevia to start leading the people out.” Spartacus said. Gannicus nodded and adjusted the strap that held his two swords. He had not drunk anything since the night before but he was ready for a few rounds right then.  He swallowed hard and imagined he was drinking from the largest jug of wine the empire had ever seen.

There was a sloshing of water and as the sun’s rays disappeared behind the distant mountains, Heracleo’s ship came into view. When it anchored, Spartacus moved closer the ship and spotted the captain ascending the deck from the lower level. He did not see any of his men. The captain climbed onto the docks while apologizing profusely for his lateness.

“Where are Sanus and the others?” He asked Heracleo.

Heracleo paused. “I am afraid I have bad news to bring, King Spartacus.”

*****

The man known as Lysiscus stood over the dead form of Nemetes and spat on him. Killing the man had been one of the few rewarding experiences since he had stepped foot in the overcrowded, foul smelling city. Nemetes had been the perfect foil for him to cause discord and betrayal among the rebels. He was a greedy, grasping, sadist who thought only of himself. Even at the very end, he tried to bargain for his life in exchange for Spartacus’. He was everything Lysiscus, whose actual name was Gaius Julius Caesar, knew the rebels to be.

As Caesar made his way towards the docks, Nasir and Murillo emerged from the catacombs. They immediately heard the sound of marching. The Romans were on the move. Nasir looked toward the sea and saw the faint line of ships that appeared on the dark horizon.

“They are coming.” He said.

“Finally,” Murillo quipped. “I am in need of some excitement.”

Nasir was already on his way towards the docks even before Murillo finished speaking. As he drew closer he could hear the sounds of swords clashing and yells. He saw a Roman soldier preparing to gut Spartacus from behind but he grabbed him just in time and twisted his head until he heard the neck snap loudly. Spartacus turned around after he heard the snap but all he saw was the man falling to the dock, dead. Gannicus and Spartacus were greatly outnumbered as soldiers seemed to appear from every crevice of Heracleo’s ship. Nasir grabbed a sword from another soldier and beheaded him in one swift stroke. Gannicus paused to see a hooded figure fighting yet another soldier but didn’t have time to find out who it was before being confronted by three Romans at one time.

Caesar saw his opportunity and stabbed Spartacus in the shoulder with a dagger. Gannicus had dispatched the men he was fighting in time to punch the blonde Roman in the face. As he sliced the throat of a Roman, Nasir saw the boats of Crassus’ army fast approaching. He then heard Caesar shouting to his men to go to the gate north of the city. He was momentarily stymied by the dilemma that was unfolding. Was he to stay and fight with Spartacus and Gannicus or attempt to head off the Romans who were heading towards the main entrance? He ran the sword he was holding through the stomach of a soldier who had come towards him. His eyes began to glow and his fangs were about to drop as the smell of blood hit the air. He had not fed and was nearly delirious with bloodlust.

Just then he heard a shout and saw Crixus jumping down onto the docks. He was joined by Naevia, Brictus and some others. Nasir concluded that they would be enough to handle to the first wave of Romans and took off to stop the Romans from opening the gate. He rushed past the rebels and entered the city. He was met by a wave of refugees scrambling to their escape routes. He was buffeted about and had completely lost sight of the soldiers. He had trekked through the city enough times to know there were several shortcuts to the gate. He had to move at normal speed because to do otherwise would mean mowing down several dozen ex slaves that had packed the streets. They were everywhere. He made it the city square and saw the pirate he had talked with looking utterly confused. Nasir was suddenly gripped with rage and stomped towards the pirate. He grabbed him by his neck and slammed him against the wall of a building.

“You treacherous fuck!” He yelled.

“Get your…hand off me!” Castus choked.

Nasir snarled. “I should kill you now to spare the rebels from having to do it themselves!”

“I have done nothing!” Castus said hoarsely.

“Your captain has betrayed Spartacus. He sailed into the docks with a ship full of Romans! You did not know of this? Do not attempt lie!” His eyes were bright yellow.

“I do not. I know nothing.” Castus said. Nasir had pushed Castus up so high that his feet were no longer touching the ground. Nasir detected no deception in the man’s answer and let him go. Castus slumped to the ground, holding his throat and coughing.

“The Romans are attempting to enter the city. You should leave with the others and find a way back to Cilicia before you are killed either by the Romans or the rebels.” Nasir warned.

“No,” Castus responded attempting to stand. “I am no coward. I will stand and face whatever fate has in store for me.”

“Fuck the Gods,” Nasir huffed. “You can be a martyr later. Help the people escape. This place will be swarming with soldiers soon, make yourself useful and help save some lives.” He turned to leave.

“Nasir, where are you going?” Castus called out.

“To the gate. How do you know my name?”

“Agron told me.” Castus scowled.

Nasir then disappeared into the crowd and fought his way to the gate.

*****

“You fucking traitor!” Agron shouted at Caesar as they stood facing one another. The Romans had finally reached the gate and were ready to break it open so that the army could enter.

Ceasar smirked, “No, not a traitor. A Roman.”

“Fuck!” Donar exclaimed.

They could not say much more as the fight had begun. Caesar was easily handling Saxa and Agron together on his own and Saxa mused that he was a much more skilled fighter than he had let on. Donar meanwhile, had his hands full as he scuffled with the soldiers that had accompanied Ceasar. He managed to dispatch them all and then cut the ropes that were attached to the gate with his huge axe. The Roman tribune managed to thwart a hit from Saxa and he ran to the gate and saw the severed ropes. He picked up a bucket of pitch that was nearby and threw it against the gate. He ducked a huge swing from Donar's axe and tossed a torch at the spilled pitch. Agron and Donar began fighting with him in earnest and Agron managed to knock him off his feet with a hit from his shield.

“Whatever your plan, it dies with you Roman.” Agron said to him as the flames began to spread.

But there was a crashing sound and the gate broke open. The army had used a battering ram to shatter the burning gate. Caesar stood back up and grabbed his sword. He grinned at the shocked faces of the rebels. “Now would be a good time to run.” He told them.

Nasir finally appeared to see the gate smashed and burning pieces of wood all over the place. Roman soldiers began to hack at the gate and enter. Nasir picked up two swords from the hands of the dead Romans at his feet and hurled them at the first soldiers in sight. His aim was true as the Romans fell, screaming. Agron whirled around and saw Nasir standing behind him, his hood was off and he was illuminated by the light of the fire.

“Leave now, there are too many of them!” Nasir yelled to them.

Agron began to back away with Donar and Saxa. Ceasar began to approach Agron in a renewed attack but Nasir met him and pushed him back. The Roman flew through the air and crashed against the battering ram. He fell to the ground with a grunt. Nasir then grabbed Agron by the arm and pulled him away. They all began to run with scores of Romans in hot pursuit.

“This way,” Nasir yelled and he ducked in an alleyway. The Romans continued on as Agron, Donar, Saxa and he hid from sight.

“The city is lost. You need to find an escape now!” Nasir told them as the Romans continued to fill the streets.

“We have to find Spartacus and others!” Agron said.

“Go then, I will stay and help get the people out safely.” Nasir told him.

Agron tried to say something to Nasir but he could not. He just looked at him until Saxa pulled at his shoulder. “We must go!”

“Go,” Nasir said quietly. “Get out of the city. We will see one another again.”

Agron nodded and ran off with Donar and Saxa. Nasir snuck into a building not far away and laid in wait. He needed to feed. He stood in the threshold of a door and held it open a crack. Soon enough, some soldiers began to run through the alley looking for rebels to slaughter. Nasir waited until the first wave came through and then noticed two stragglers. He closed the door noisily in order to gain their attention. It worked as they came to the door and began to pound against it with their swords. They burst through only to meet blackness. A soft voice carried in the dark, “Looking for someone?”

They knew no more as Nasir set upon them.

*****

Lugo was literally pushing people through the hole in the western wall of the city. The hole had been made a day or two before as an emergency exit for the refugees in case the city came under attack. Lines of frantic people crowded around the wall. Nasir saw the back up and pushed his way towards the front to Lugo.

“Lugo, is there no other means to escape?” he cried out.

“Nasir!” Lugo greeted him. “You help us fight!”

“I help with getting these people out.” He said as he was elbowed roughly. “This opening is too narrow!” He stepped towards the wall and hit it with his forearm. He had to be careful in order to ensure the entire wall did not crash upon all of them. He hit it again and the stone began to crack and fall. He pulled the chunks away. Lugo helped by hitting the wall with his hammer. Soon enough, the hole was widened and people began to stream out.

“Head west towards the ridge!” Lugo yelled at them.

Over the clamor of stomping and yells, Nasir heard the clanking of steel. The Romans were bearing upon them. “The Romans approach. Lugo, keep the people moving. I will try to stop them!”

Nasir moved to the end of the line that had snaked to the western edge of the city square. He saw the soldiers approach with their swords drawn. He widened his stance and readied himself to fight. The first soldier charged and Nasir quickly ducked, took his sword and ran it through his chest. The second soldier fared no better. The ex-slaves squealed in terror and ran off, not because of the fight but because another figure with a blood smeared face, glowing blue eyes and fangs appeared. He picked up one soldier, broke his neck and threw his body at a group of soldiers that were coming at them.

Nasir turned to the figure. “I was wondering when you would show up.”

“Did you think I would miss this?” Murillo chuckled as he deftly snapped the neck of a Roman.

“No, you love chaos too much.” Nasir said as he hit another soldier in the face, driving his nasal bone into his brain. The man collapsed at his feet.

Murillo said as he crushed the skull of a centurion with his hands. “Although Pandora would be quite disappointed with us being here in the middle of a battle.”

“Well she is not here, is she?”

“Point taken.”

Nasir stopped to survey the scene all around him lay dead soldiers.

“That was fun.” Murillo sighed. Then there was a whistling sound. Nasir saw the arrow fly through the air and hit Murillo. The lamina grunted at the impact and then merely said, “Ow,” as he pulled it out of his chest.

“They are using arrows now.” Murillo drawled and licked the blood from the tip.

“We may need to leave. Getting struck by a dozen arrows is not fun to me.” Nasir said and headed back towards to the wall. Murillo followed and piled the route to the wall with debris and dead bodies to stall any further attacks.

When they got there, people were still piling out. Nasir began to use Lugo’s method and began pushing them through. “Move! Now!” He screamed. As the last of the refugees crawled out of the hole, more Romans appeared. Nasir grabbed Lugo’s shoulder. “We will knock down the wall. Guide the people to the mountains!”

“I stay here and fight with you!” Lugo cried.

“I do not plan to stay and fight after that wall comes down. I am no fool. Go!” He pushed Lugo away and began to hit the wall. Murillo joined him laughing as it crashed onto the approaching battalion. Those Romans who did not perish under the weight of the stones were quickly killed by the lamina. When another wave approached, Nasir and Murillo hissed and bared their fangs at them. The soldiers screamed and ran off.

*****

The fires from the city could be seem from leagues away. The two lamina stood at the foot of the ridge and watched as the remaining rebels streamed out of the front gate. Nasir’s sharp eyes caught sight of Agron among the crowd and he sighed in relief.

“Why do the Romans not follow?”  Nasir asked.

“Why should they? They have accomplished what they set out to do. They have driven the rebels out of the city and into the wilds. They have no choice now but to go to Melia Ridge which I assume now is covered with snow and ice.” Murillo replied.

“They will all perish if they stay there!” Nasir exclaimed.

“Which is what the Romans hope to happen. Why set their men out to kill when the mountain will do the task for them?”

Nasir bowed his head. The sense of defeat weighed heavily upon him.


	10. The Fourth Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rebels are trapped at Melia Ridge and Spartacus frets over what to do. Meanwhile, Agron is offered a choice.

Agron had never experienced cold like the kind he felt at Melia Ridge. Not even the harsh winters he remembered from his childhood in Germania compared to the bitter, bone stiffening cold he endured. He was miserable and he was not the only one. Morale was at an all-time low within the rebel camp since their defeat in Sinuessa En Valle. It was the first significant defeat of the rebellion and it had been a devastating one. Thousands had been killed and even more were missing, including Donar and Gannicus.

With each day, even more perished from the cold and hunger. The rebels could not move forward because to their horror, The Praetor Marcus Crassus had commissioned his troops to move to Melia Ridge in advance of the rebels. They dug a huge trench and constructed a wall of ice and snow which was guarded by troops armed with arrows and spears. They were trapped like animals just as they had been on the mountains of Vesivius by the Praetor Glaber. Agron stood near the trench with Lugo looking at the bodies of the rebels that had tried to scale the wall. They had been skewered by spears and spikes that stuck up from th ground. Every few minutes, they saw a group of soldiers march across the top of the wall.

“There is no way to get under or over from what I can see.” Agron said gloomily.

“Everything has a weakness, we must find it.” Lugo replied.

Agron cocked his eyebrow, “If we do not die first.”

They joined Spartacus in his tent and Agron noted that he not seen the rebel leader look so glum in quite some time. The betrayal by the pirates stung him as well as Crassus outwitting him. Spartacus had mulled over every single detail of his plans and chastised himself for trusting Heracleo and for not being being diligent enough to see through Lysiscus’ treachery. He had to admit, he had met his match in Marcus Crassus. The man had several advantages over him: He had more money than the Gods and thousands of men at his disposal. The Roman was also brilliant and patient, much unlike Glaber and Cossinius. Spartacus wondered how he was going to get his people out of their current situation. Before, they had been cloistered within the sewers of Capua and then stranded on the jagged cliffs of the mountain. He had no idea how to lead thousands out of the frozen dungeon the Crassus had created for them.

He rubbed his eyes in fatigue from the chair where he was sitting as Agron and Lugo waited for him to speak. “What news concerning the wall as if I need ask?” He said finally.

Agron shrugged. “The rotation is every few minutes or so. There are no more than four at one time.”

“Hmmm…” Spartacus murmured. He moved on eventually. “Lugo, take some men with you and gather wood for fuel. Break down wagons, benches or anything that can burn. Give some to the cook. Distribute the rest.”

Lugo nodded and left the tent. Agron wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. The cold was inescapable. “People are arriving at the camp every hour. Gannicus, Donar or Nemetes could show up at any time.” He said trying to sound reassuring. He wasn’t sure if he was successful.

“I have already resigned myself to the fact that Gannicus and Donar may be dead. I already know that Nemetes was killed.” Spartacus said.

Agron was shocked. “What?”

“One of our men told me that he saw Nemetes lying near a culvert with his throat slashed.” Spartacus replied in a low voice.

Agron sighed heavily. The news was a blow. Regardless of his differences with Nemetes, the man was a tremendous fighter. “That is ill news.”

“I fear more deaths will come. What would make our situation even more desperate is if Nasir and his friends appeared and began to pick us off.” Spartacus said.

Agron looked chagrined. “Nasir saved me from being attacked by that fucking Caesar. He also led hundreds to safety by breaking west wall and leading them out of the city when all other escape paths were blocked.”

Spartacus glared at Agron. “Once again you have kept information from me, Agron.”

Agron sighed. “Spartacus, think of what has been happening the last few days!”

“You want to be the man I trust above all others, yet you test that trust by either withholding things or lying outright!”

“I have not broken trust with you!”

“That is debatable.”

Agron pressed his hand against his forehead. “Losing Nasir has been harder for me than losing Duro. I knew my brother’s fate because he died in my arms. I did not have that chance with Nasir. At first I was told that he was dead and I had to endure the shock of that. But then he comes back as a different person…or thing.  And as much as I have tried to sever the relationship and suppress my feelings I cannot because I keep seeing him. It is as if I am being haunted by a specter that I can touch.  I still care for him and I do not know if I can ever cease doing so.”

Spartacus sat up. “Agron, I know this has been very difficult for you. But the situation does not only affect you! Nasir is a danger to us all. With you not sharing these interactions, you put us all at risk.”

“That is not my intention, nor do I think Nasir aims to harm us.” Agron argued.

“What about Naevia?” Spartacus demanded.

“What about her?” Agron said defensively. “Nasir was able to stop himself and she yet lives.”

“That is a dubious reason at best.”

“It is the truth or have you not noticed her walking around and scowling as usual.”

“Agron!”

“What else would you have me say? Am I to be blamed for what he has or has not done? Should I beg forgiveness for loving him?”

Spartacus looked at Agron tiredly, “No, of course not. But can you live with the fact that he is capable of killing anyone, including those you consider friends?”

“Are we not all capable of that? Have you not killed a friend?”

Spartacus looked away. “Leave me, I need to rest.”

“As you wish.” Agron said tonelessly and left the tent. He regretted bringing up Varro to Spartacus but he was tired of the constant browbeating over his dealings with Nasir. As things stood, an appearance from Nasir was less dangerous than the cold that threatened to freeze his blood solid. He tramped out into the snow to find a large fire to sit near.

*****

Saxa sipped the hot barley gruel and wrinkled her nose in distaste. It smelled of swill and tasted worse, but it was all they had to eat at the moment. Every morsel was being rationed. She didn’t know if she would be able to keep it down anyway. Her stomach was in knots. Gannicus still had not appeared at the rebel camp. She knew the gladiator was a skilled and canny fighter, but there had been so many Romans. She had barely managed to escape. She did not want to believe that Gannicus could be dead. She could not believe it. She slammed her bowl down on the ground and stared into the huge fire where she, Naevia and Crixus were sitting around. Agron had stormed out of Spartacus’s tent and plopped down next to her and warmed his hands. She did not ask what was wrong because she was unable to concern herself with his troubles at the moment.

The wind began to kick up and she pulled her cloak tight around herself. She brushed away the fat flakes of snow that began to pelt her face. Soft thumps could be heard in the distance and they sounded like horse hooves treading in the snow. Agron squinted as he tried to make out where the sound was coming from. His eyes widened suddenly and he broke out in a surprised grin as two horses appeared at the end of a line of tents. On one horse rode Gannicus and a young woman. Laeta, the Aedile’s wife sat astride the other beast.

“That bastard just refuses to die!” Agron exclaimed and rushed to meet Gannicus. There was a feeling all-around of relief as he dismounted. Saxa ran into his arms but gave the woman with him a look of disgust. Laeta was rushed to the medicus tent while the others gathered around Gannicus to hear how he managed to escape the burning ruin that Sinuessa turned out to be. He brought the wonderful news that Heracleo was finally dead. But he also shared the grim news that Donar had been captured. Their cheerfulness immediately dissipated. Spartacus then took Gannicus over to the wall to drive home the point of their situation.

Spartacus declared with a hint of gloom, “He will march from the city with his army behind us and when he comes death shall follow in his wake." As night came, Spartacus’ words still lingered.

*****

Agron kicked the snow from his boots in frustration as he entered his tent. He did not spot the being that was standing inside it for several moments. When he did, he cried out in shock. “Fuck! Did you seek to frighten the piss out of me?”

“No,” Nasir said blandly. “You are usually more alert. I thought I was going to have to stand here all night.”

“I had not expected company considering the current condition of the skies.” Agron scowled. “How did you get here?” He recalled the narrow path of the ridge which was tremendously difficult to tread with the howling wind and snow. Nasir did not look the least bit windswept.

Nasir smiled slightly. “How do you and the others fare?”

“We are cold.” Agron said in tone ringing with sarcasm.

“Surprisingly I was able to surmise that, even if I cannot feel it myself.” Nasir responded.

Agron suddenly thought of something and held up his finger. “Wait here. Do not leave.” He said and promptly left the tent. Nasir stared after him in confusion but heeded his direction.

Agron swept out of the tent and scrambled over the growing snow banks to Spartacus’. He said as he burst in, “Please come with me back to my tent.”

Spartacus was stunned, “What for?”

Agron said repressively, “In order to restore trust between us. Oh, and bring your torch with you.”

The rebel leader did not have the faintest idea what his general meant and followed behind him rather reluctantly. When Agron reached the flap of his tent, he pulled it back and gestured for Spartacus to enter. He stepped in, leading with his torch and the light fell on to,

“Nasir!” He cried.

Nasir turned to Agron and asked, “What is the purpose of this reunion?”

Agron replied, “To broker a truce amongst us all.”

“That will depend upon whether or not Spartacus still believes I will rip the very flesh from his throat.” Nasir said tacitly.

“Will you?” Spartacus asked taking in Nasir’s appearance fully. He looked very much the same but with subtle differences. It was if he was staring at an artist’s rendering of the man instead of the man himself.

“You will either have to take me upon my word or proceed to draw your sword.” Nasir challenged. He had carefully watched as Spartacus’ hand slid to towards the hilt of his sword which stuck out from his belt.

“No!” Agron cried. “You are here to break words, nothing more.”

“Agron,” Spartacus said, never taking his eyes from the lamina before him. “I am to make peace with this creature? A thing that creeps in the shadows and murders for sport. A thing you wanted to kill or have you forgotten? ”

“I murdered people when I was a part of your army. I killed on your orders or have _you_ forgotten?” Nasir said.

“I never commanded you to attack innocent people and drain their blood!” Spartacus ground out.

Nasir tilted his head. “No, you commanded me to kill anyone in my path in order to gain land, possessions, or vengeance. I kill now because I feed upon blood which sustains me. And yet, that is more repellant to you.” He remembered arguing the same point with Agron.

“We are at war for our freedom!”

“And all the people you have freed have been led here…to certain death.” Nasir said calmly.

Spartacus looked furious, “Which will no doubt you and the others that follow in your wake will attempt to hasten!”

Nasir shook his head, “No, only I have made this trek into the mountains.” Murillo had refused to join Nasir on his journey to Melia Ridge, much to Nasir’s relief. “And my purpose is not to lay waste to the rebels.”

“Then why are you here?”

Nasir looked at Agron, “I want to know what you will do next. The Romans are on their way. Crassus’ troops will begin to arrive by daybreak. You have not yet figured out how to get through his wall, I wager. What will you do when he comes?”

Spartacus stepped closer to him. “I will lead our people out of this place!”

“How?” Nasir sneered, “Dead on their backs or on their knees as prisoners of Crassus?”

Spartacus started to lunge by was stopped by Agron’s firm hand to his chest. He did not care who or what stood before him. He would not stand for his leadership to be criticized.

“Those words were not helpful to your cause, Nasir!” Agron shouted.

“I am not here to convince Spartacus of my piety. I am an immortal; I shall survive long after this war fades from memory. I am here to ask what you will do, Agron.” Nasir asserted.

“If you are not here to hurt us or to help then depart, fiend! Or fall where you stand.” Spartacus warned.

Agron's eyes widened but Nasir was merely dismissive. “Spare me your fury, Spartacus. Focus your thoughts on saving those who still may believe in you; even if it has turned to folly.”

Spartacus dropped the torch and drew his sword. But Agron stood between them. “Do not attempt to strike. He is quicker and stronger than both of us. He will hurt you. Do not, please.” Nasir meanwhile had not moved. His face remained impassive but his eyes gave off a faint golden glow.

The Thracian glared at the younger man in disbelief. “You need to decide where not only your trust but your loyalties lay, Agron!” He sheathed his sword and stormed out of the tent.

Agron stooped over and picked up the torch. He set in a bracket that was attached to the center pole which held the structure up. “That did not go as planned.” He muttered.

“Apologies for the lack of soft words and tears.” Nasir asked. “He along with the rest of them is afraid of me. He will probably never trust me. I have learned to deal with that fact. I am here to see you as promised.”

Agron concentrated on the flame. “I do not know what you want of me.”

“I simply want to ask you something.”

“What is that?” Agron’s green eyes seemed to dance along with the flickering fire.

“Do you want to leave this place and live forever or remain here and die?”

Agron was stunned. “Are you placing some sort of choice before me?”

“Yes, I am. If you choose to come with me, you will become as I. You will live forever and with no pain and no sickness.” He stepped closer to Agron but was careful not to look too deeply into his eyes. He did not want to influence Agron unduly. It had to be completely his choice, which was paramount. “We could be together again for all eternity.”

Agron reached out and touched Nasir’s cheek. It was cold to the touch. He allowed his hand to slip down to his neck and brush lightly against his hair. _How long had it been since they had touched?_   Nasir leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. Agron closed the gap between them and lightly kissed his temple. The skin that touched his lips felt frozen but was smooth and fragrant. Nasir looked up and took Agron’s face in both his hands and kissed him. Agron returned it with fervor. His love, his light was here again with him. It was almost like it was before. But the skin was _so_ cold. The gold highlights that flashed behind the pupils had not been there before. Agron undid Nasir’s hair and the loose waves fell and framed his face. He gathered him in his arms and kissed him again. As his hands ran through Nasir’s midnight black hair, it felt too straight and too thin to hold on to.  He ended the kiss and released Nasir. He walked to the flap of the tent and allowed the frigid wind to blow over his face in an effort to clear his thoughts. Being so near to Nasir again made him feel confused.

“If I leave with you and become what you are, my flesh will become pale and cold as yours. I would have to feed on blood as well.” He said finally.

Nasir who was still standing by the torch replied, “You would. Each night you will awaken with a burning thirst that will drive you nearly insane. It is a need that consumes you until it is fulfilled. It never changes in intensity or length. It is always the same, and it will be for all time.”

Agron shuddered as Nasir continued to speak. “But when the first rush of blood flows down your throat, it is unlike any feeling you will ever experience. You would have to be an immortal to fully understand. Every sense is set on fire and the heat is more alluring and more satisfying than eating, fucking, drinking or any other pleasure you could imagine. And it is always the same, and it will be for all time. Your sight is enhanced. You can see for leagues on end. You can move with the speed of swiftest wind. You would be stronger than ten men. And your sense of touch…you would feel everything a hundredfold.” Nasir whispered.

Agron suddenly imagined him and Nasir making love in the faint light of the torch. He could feel himself pounding harder and deeper inside Nasir’s body. “I am a warrior.” He struggled to say while shaking away the image.  “My life has been naught but battle after battle. And I vowed to fight. I vowed to avenge my brother. I cannot leave Spartacus and the others behind.”

 “A storm approaches as well. It would not be proper vengeance for your brother if you perished from wind and cold rather than from the blade of a centurion!” Nasir exclaimed.

“I will not abandon my people!” He yelled.

“Agron, you and your people are as good as dead if you stay on this ridge! As much as I believed the rebels could be victorious, what hope is left in such desolation? Even if I could kill a hundred soldiers, I cannot stay the clouds. I may be able to knock down a stone wall but I could not even dent the massive one that impedes you now. Am I to watch you and the others waste away from hunger and cold to become easy prey when the Romans descend upon you? Is that your choice?”

Agron faced Nasir once more. “Yes, it is because of you that I must make it. I was not there for you when…” He could not say, ‘you died’. “Had I been there, I may have been able to save you...” He sniffed heavily. “But things have turned out so differently. I have marched hundreds of leagues with Spartacus, Crixus, Naevia and Gannicus. They have all saved my life at one time or another. I could not go if it meant missing the chance to return favor to any of them. A favor that I could not grant to you.”

Nasir rushed to him, “Is that what haunts your thoughts? Is that the shadow that sets upon your brow?” He gently touched Agron’s forehead. “Is that what keeps you from my embrace? Do not place the blame upon yourself Agron. I never have. I never will.”

Agron closed his eyes. “Gratitude,” he said simply. “The choice you offer has given me pause, but I must stay. If there is a chance to flee the ridge no matter how small, I must be here to take it.”

Nasir nodded. Agron took his hands into his own. “If I do meet my end here, will you-“He began.

“Do not say it.” Nasir interrupted. “Dwell upon that small chance and I shall _try_ to do the same.”

He had left Agron as the night ended, sound asleep on a pile of furs in his tent. He was content to watch his man slumber peacefully in what he guessed had been the first time in weeks. The rest of the night had been spent quietly, sharing gentle touches and small smiles. It had been enough for Nasir to see Agron comfortable in his presence. Agron had not asked him about his life as a lamina and that had been fine. They would discuss all of it at a later time if given the chance.

As he left Agron’s tent to go to his resting place, his saw a shadow appear in the light from a nearby tent. It was Spartacus and he peered at Nasir as he walked along the line of tents and other hastily built structures in the camp. Nasir had little doubt that he would rush to Agron’s tent to check on him as soon as Nasir was out of sight. That was fine with Nasir as well.

*****

The morning brought more snow and as Nasir predicted, the Romans. They had sent up camp quickly and the rebels could see the orderly line of their torch lights in the distance. Crixus wanted to fight and had set up battle lines before Spartacus stopped him. Agron was actually ready to shed blood. Anything was better than standing around freezing his cock off and waiting to die. Crixus and Spartacus went at it for hours until Spartacus planned to launch an attack, but with certain conditions: that it had to be at night with just a few of their side’s best warriors. They were going to sneak into the Praetor’s tent to end his life then. _It had worked before, why not this time?_   He thought.

While they readied themselves for their ambush, Agron caught Spartacus throwing furtive looks his way. He became exasperated after a while and bellowed, “Is there something you want to ask of me Spartacus?”

Spartacus put down the dagger he had been pretending to sharpen. “I want to know if your heart is still within the rebellion or elsewhere.”

“I am here, am I not?” Agron replied.

“Your body is. But again, where is your heart?”

Gannicus who was sitting nearby looked completely lost, “What the fuck are you talking about? Agron, were you planning on joining another rebellion behind our backs?”

Spartacus gazed at Agron who met it with his own. “No, Gannicus. I am not going anywhere.” Agron replied. Even with Agron’s declaration, Spartacus looked unconvinced and left their company hastily in order to dole out more orders to the rest of the fighters.

Gannicus eyed Agron curiously. “What is between you two?”

Agron only shook his head and sighed, “’Tis nothing.”

“Whatever it is, make sure it does not cost any of us our lives tonight.”

After he had finished conferring with the others concerning the attack, Agron went out on a search for food.  As he stood in line for a bowl of the much hated barley gruel, he saw Britcus verbally abusing the Cilician, Castus. He was about to turn his attention back to the proffered bowl the cook was offering to him when he heard the sounds of fists striking against flesh. He turned around again to see Brictus viciously pummeling Castus about his face and head. He ignored the bowl and went over to the men. The refugees, who were cowering in fear at the beating they were witnessing, scattered as the burly German stalked towards them.

“Brictus!” He shouted.

“What?” The bald rebel cried and glowered at Agron as he approached.

“Leave him alone.” Agron said quietly, getting right into the man’s face.

Brictus continued to work himself up, “This piece of filth still lives and is allowed to warm his ass in our presence. This treacherous fuck gets to fill his belly while Nemetes rots!”

“Yes he does, now fall from sight.” Agron gritted out.

“He deserves to die, Agron!”

Agron’s eyes flashed. “You will not be the one to do it. If you lay hand upon him once more then you will have me to deal with. Now fall from fucking sight!”

Brictus lowered his gaze, backed away and trudged off.

“Gratitude,” Castus said hoarsely as he worked his tongue over his bruised and bloody lips.

“Spare it, no one has the time to build a funeral pyre for you.” Agron.

“I am grateful all the same. Brictus may be a dim brute but he not wrong. None of you will ever see me as anything but traitor because I am a Cilician.” Castus said dully.

“And you also sailed with the man who betrayed us to the Romans.” Agron reminded him.

Castus looked agitated. “A plot I had no knowledge of! I will say that until my dying breath.”

“It will take more than words to change minds.”

“Then release me and I shall prove myself. I will fight by your side against the Romans.” Castus said. He held up his bound hands.

Agron looked uncomfortable. “It is not solely my call to make. I would have to speak with the others.”

“Will you do so?” Castus asked plaintively.

Agron began to retreat but before he left Castus entirely he called out, “I will consider it.”

 

*****

The soldier fell with a near silent thud as he was struck by one of Saxa’s daggers. The rebels continued to move further inside the Roman camp, cutting down whichever guard crossed their path. As they gathered together near the entrance of the tent, they all gripped their weapons tighter. Spartacus had told them to be prepared for anything and to kill all who stood in their path. As he hurled himself into the tent ready to slay anything that moved, he was stopped dead in his tracks. Agron, Crixus, and Gannicus who had hurried in after him stood agape at the horrible sight that met them. Instead of a surprised Marcus Crassus, the crucified body of Donar greeted them instead. He was pale and rotting with the words, “Mors Indecepta” carved upon his chest.

“It is a trap,” Spartacus choked out. “We must retreat, now!”

They all ran out of the tent but they were met by more soldiers who seemed to appear out of nowhere. In the faint light of the torches and the whirling snow, they curbed off the attack and tried to beat a hasty retreat back to their camp. Unfortunately, Naevia was seriously injured. As she screamed in pain, Spartacus carried her away. Crixus who was wild with fury continued the fight until he had to be pulled away. While this was going on, a hooded figure observed from the distance. Only after all the rebels had returned to the camp, did the figure move.

Agron was too distressed to do anything more than stumble into his tent, collapse upon his pile of furs and stare blankly into space. With every blink, he saw Donar’s disfigured body nailed to the cross with those horrible words gleaming in blood. His Latin was faulty but Spartacus told them what it meant, Mors Indecepta: Death is inescapable. It was not enough that Crassus had fooled them again, but now he was taunting them openly. Agron wanted to get angry but he couldn’t. He was devastated at the loss of his friend who had been more than just a comrade. He had become one of his most loyal companions since the start of the rebellion. Donar, who could always be counted on to follow command to the letter and with good humor. A tear, hot and itching fell to his cheek and he brushed it away quickly. He thought he heard a rustling outside of his tent and looked closely at the flap, but no one entered. He had actually expected Nasir to appear but then he thought that he might be upset because his offer had been rejected.

His mood turned even darker as he lay on the pile. He wanted Nasir with him and wondered for the briefest second if he had made his choice too quickly. Death is inescapable, Crassus was telling them. Perhaps it was time to start listening.

*****

He was awakened by shouts that rang out against the harsh wind. He felt as if he had only drifted off moments before. His rest had been fitful and plagued by horrific images of dismembered body parts and Nasir beckoning him to cross a river of blood to join him on the other side. He finally sat up and yawned roughly. A series of footfalls thumped loudly as if a crowd had rushed by the tent’s opening. When he opened the flap, he saw several people at the end of the line of tents. They were gathered around a dark object on the ground.

Agron went back into the tent and grabbed his cloak. It had actually grown colder during the night. They sky was pewter and the frequent gusts of wind whistled loudly. He wrapped the cloak around him and walked towards the crowd. Crixus was already there gaping at the thing placed on the snow. When Agron managed to push his way to the center of the crowd, he gaped as well. The object was actually a body-Donar’s body. Someone or something had taken him from the Roman tent and brought him to the rebel camp. He looked closer and saw that Donar had been wrapped carefully. There were no trenches or grooves in the snow so whoever (whatever) it was had carried Donar and placed him gently upon the ground. After taking all that in, he knew who had done it.

“Who did this?” Gannicus asked as he bounded through the crowd. “I am not sure whether to call them brave or foolish.”

“It was Nasir,” Agron said softly. “He did not do this out of foolishness, but out of respect for Donar. He knew he did not deserve to be treated so in death. He wanted to give us a chance to say farewell.”

“That was thoughtful. Not a thing a murderous creature from the underworld would do.” Gannicus responded.

“No, it is not.” Agron said.

“We should give him a proper send off.” Lugo said sadly. He seemed slightly better than he had the night before. Donar had been one of his closest friends and he was nearly inconsolable when told of his death.

“It will have to wait.” Crixus said roughly. “The storm approaches and we cannot spare the wood. Every stick will be needed to keep us from freezing to death as it comes.”

Agron patted Lugo’s elbow. “Come, we shall take Donar’s body to Gallipor’s tent for the time being.” Lugo nodded in acknowledgement and grabbed Donar’s feet. Agron grabbed his shoulders and they trudged slowly to the tent belonging to the medicus.

The sky grew darker and the wind began to howl. Much time was spent securing structures and finding fuel for fires. It seemed that Nasir was right about the approaching storm as well. People were huddled against one another in an attempt to hold onto precious body heat.  Every tent was filled to capacity and there simply weren't enough for everyone. The rebels had to resort to digging out trenches in the snow banks and lining the sides with cloth and sticks. It was the only thing they could do to buffet the wind. As the hours ticked by, the wind velocity kicked up. The medicus’ tent was blown away by a massive gust and there was a scramble to find the sick and injured proper shelter. Spartacus was able find a still recovering Laeta a spot in the covered snow bank before he went to check up how Naevia fared.

Gannicus had a twinge of regret after rebuffing Saxa’s offer to fuck before the storm fully appeared. He loved pleasures of the flesh as much as anyone, but he also knew that there was a time and a place for everything. Maybe Saxa would understand in the future and if she never did he wasn’t sure if he would actually care any longer. He found Argon breaking Spartacus’ chair into pieces to be used for firewood and helped with dispersing it. While he was tossing a few sticks into a dying campfire, a young warrior ran up to him.

“Gannicus, you must come! Crixus and Spartacus are fighting!” The youth cried breathlessly.

Gannicus shrugged, “They are always fighting.”

“No,” The boy said. “They are about to kill one another!”

“For fuck’s sake.” He groaned and threw down the rest of the wood. “Agron! Come along, we have to end another battle!” He shouted across the campsite.

*****

Spartacus winced as Agron placed the cold cloth across his bruised and cracked knuckles.

“That was a sight I had not witnessed since our days at the Ludus.” Agron quipped. He was standing before Spartacus right outside his now fully occupied tent. He would have forced the Thracian to enter but there was no place to sit. Agron did not know when he would get around to telling Spartacus that he had destroyed most of his furniture.

Spartacus looked grim. “It was a long time coming.”

“Indeed, but I would have found a less bloody way to stay warm.”

Spartacus ignored Agron’s attempt at humor. He was still fuming over his fight with Crixus which had left both his body and his ego bruised. “If things were left up to Crixus, we all would be lying dead upon the snow after fighting every Roman within sight.”

Agron drew a deep breath. “He is enraged over Naevia’s injury and frustrated about not being able to kill Crassus. Both are enough to set temper to edge. You cannot take it to heart.”

“How can I not?”  Spartacus demanded.

“The fault does not lie with you. We all knew the danger the ambush would bring before we agreed to partake in it.”

Spartacus sounded almost desperate. “But look at us now! Look at where we are, Agron. I led us here.”

“And you will lead us out.” Agron said steadily.

“So you do not believe that to follow me is folly as Nasir does?”

Agron stiffened momentarily. “If you may recall, Nasir and I did not always agree on everything in the past.  We are not in agreement now.”

“You are telling me that you did not consider leaving this place with him? I know that is what he offered. And it was why he was so hostile towards me.” Spartacus said.

Agron saw no point in denying it. “Naturally I considered it. The thought of being at his side again is more temptation than I can bear.” He gave Spartacus a hard look. “But I am committed to this fight. I want to see Crassus on his knees for what he did to Donar. I want to see this ridge littered with the bodies of dead Romans and I will not leave until I see it.”

Spartacus nodded. “And then?”

Agron chuffed and said, “Then we move on to the next conflict and the next choice to be made. For now, my thoughts are focused on this storm and whether or not my cock will freeze.”

“Give me a minute and I will help you further secure the moorings on the snowbank.” Spartacus said.

Agron placed a firm hand on Spartacus’ shoulder. “No, you rest and find shelter for yourself.”

“You all need help.”

“We do,” Agron said slyly. “And I know just the person to provide it.”

His teeth were chattering so loud the noise was actually hurting his ears. He did not even hear the German as he approached. Agron did not announce his presence either. He merely pulled out his dagger, grabbed the rope that bound Castus’ hands and cut it. The Cilician was so shocked he could not even react.

“Your plea for freedom was considered.” Agron said.  “Get up, your work has just begun.”

*****

The storm finally arrived. The ice that was whipped up with the wind felt like daggers as it hit the flesh. Gannicus was missing and Saxa was frantic. Lugo had to literally hold on to her in order to keep her from running headlong into the storm. It was dark as pitch and nothing could be seen even if Saxa had been allowed to search. Agron tried to look for him but gave up as a particularly strong gust nearly knocked him sideways. Castus, who was walking alongside him yelled into the din of wind, “We must take cover lest we freeze in our tracks!”

Agron nodded in agreement but did not know if the other man saw him, “My tent is just beyond there. Follow me.”

They tried to move as quickly as they could but they were against the wind. The ice and snow was so heavy they found it difficult to keep their eyes open. Agron had to resort to holding his hand up in the air to protect his face. As soon as he did, it was grabbed and he was pulled forward as if by some invisible force. He heard Castus cry, “Wait!”

He was suddenly at the front of his tent and he was then led in. The place was packed. Every corner was occupied with a body. A woman who had helped herself to most of Agron’s pile of furs cried out, “This tent is full! We can’t take any more, fat, stinking bodies!”

Agron sneered, “Seeing as this is MY tent, you are free to remove your fat, stinking body from it.”

Nasir who had still not let go of his hand continued to lead him further inside until he was able to clear a space. “Here,” he said pointing it out. “A spot just for you.”

Agron almost grinned. “Gratitude, I thought I would wind up like Spartacus-driven from my own tent.” He gasped. “Fuck the Gods, I forgot about Castus!”

“Castus?”

“He was following behind me. He is still outside!”

“I will get him.” Nasir told Agron. He quickly left and returned a few minutes later with a heaving and shivering Castus.

“Seeing you again is a blessing!” Castus gasped as Nasir wrapped a large pelt of fur he had snatched from the complaining woman.

“That is the first time I have heard such sentiment.” Nasir said.

Castus looked longingly at the lamina. “I speak the truth. You have saved my life.”

Agron who was watching crossed his arms and muttered, “And not the rebel that kept Brictus from spilling your brains or who freed you from your bonds.”

“I merely meant-“Castus began.

Agron ground out. “I know what you meant. I know how you feel but also know that my eyes are upon you.”

“Perhaps you both can pause the pissing contest until after the storm has passed.” Nasir said glaring at Agron. Castus shrugged and sat down on the ground. Nasir moved away to join Agron in his corner of the tent. The general stared at the uninvited guests nearby until they all scooted away. He sighed and finally sat down. Nasir then sat at his side.

Agron rolled his eyes. “This is a fine way to spend the night. Sitting on the freezing ground, completely surrounded.”

“I do not mind.” Nasir replied.

“Even with the Cilician mooning over you?”

Nasir found Agron’s jealousy quite amusing. He found himself chuckling for the first time since he became an immortal.

“Was what I said so humorous?” Agron asked darkly.

“It is just not too long ago, you were prepared to gut me with your sword. And now you are worried about a pirate being in love with me.” Nasir whispered.

“Well, things change.” Agron admitted, keeping his voice low as well. “I was obviously wrong.”

“No, you were correct in your fear. However, I am glad you overcame it.”

Agron slid even closer to Nasir. “I thought I would have seen you before tonight. At first I feared that you were angry because I had chosen not to accept your offer. Then I woke up and saw Donar and knew that you had followed us into the Roman camp. But then, you did not come until the storm hit. You missed much before that happened.”

“What did I miss?”

“Spartacus and Crixus nearly killing each other earlier today. It was quite and effort for Gannicus and me to separate the two. I feel that the rebellion is permanently split now. Crixus wants to actively seek the Romans in battle, but Spartacus…” Agron’s thoughts drifted off. He was no longer sure what Spartacus’ true purpose was.

“Agron,” Nasir prompted. He had known that Agron’s thoughts had become muddled because he had tried to read them.

Agron shook his head slightly and frowned. “Why do you only come at night?”

Nasir knew that question would be presented to him eventually but he could not answer it at the time. He scanned the tent full of refugees and was not the least bit interested in all of them knowing the lamina’s greatest weakness. Besides, he had already told Agron and Spartacus too much.

“It is easier to move around under the cover of darkness. Our powers would be too noticeable in daylight.”

“Oh,” Agron said and left it at that. He sensed the reason was more complex but like Nasir, he did not think it was prudent to hash it out in front of a watchful audience.

“I am afraid that once the morning breaks, you all will be faced with the grim results of this storm. I doubt that your mind will linger too long upon my absence.”

Agron sighed again and tried to stretch his legs out. “I know we were not able to save everyone.”

“I could hear last gasps of death while I searched for you. There will be more still. You will have to walk across the backs of hundreds of the dead in order to find the living.” He whispered so low that he was almost inaudible.

Agron looked away, “Do not make me feel regret over my choice.”

“I am not. I only tell what you will face because of it. But I will not broach upon subject again. This is what you want. I will no longer interfere.” He said and gripped Agron's hand.

Over the wind and the mutterings of the other occupants of the tent, Castus strained to hear what Nasir and Agron had said. He could only make out, ‘night’ and ‘choice’. He peered at the couple and noticed the strained face of the German and the stolid one of the dark haired man beside him. He also noticed that their hands were tightly clasped.

*****

The estimated body count was incredibly high: Over one thousand dead. Agron kept hearing it in his head. He heard it as Spartacus and Crixus made amends awkwardly. He heard it as Lugo boasted that he had braved the storm with nothing more than his subligar and his boots. He heard it over Nasir’s whispers in his ear before departed the tent. He heard it as Gannicus appeared from the drifts, holding the hand of the brunette woman who came with him from Sinuessa.

As they gathered around a circle of dead worshipers, the young woman burst into tears and demanded the Gods tell her why the prayers of the faithful had not worked. Saxa seemed to think that the prayers of the young woman worked, because she had finally seemed to snag Gannicus. Lugo wanted to know what they were going to do with all of the bodies that were laid out everywhere within the camp.

Agron said, “I had heard we would have to walk across the backs of the dead to find the living.”

Spartacus paused after he heard that statement.

“Indeed, we just might. We also may find freedom.”

Agron looked dumbstruck. “What?”

“Gather the able-bodied. There is much to do.”

For the rest of the day, the dead were gathered and dragged to huge trench that lay before the mammoth wall. Spartacus set up archers in a line to distract the guards from attacking the rebels as they dumped the bodies into the trench. When the sky turned dark again, Spartacus gathered his exhausted, hungry troops by the light of his torch. With the last of the wood, they had built a funeral pyre for Donar. Spartacus lit the base with his torch. Over the crackling of the flames, he told his people,

“We have suffered much death and loss. We are spent and bowed from hunger.” He pointed to the wall. “But our freedom lies just beyond that wall! You wonder how I know. I have learned from our foe that nothing is at it appears. I ask once again that you put aside your grief, ignore your hunger and bear through the pain. Crassus has triumphed in our suffering but I say to him no more! Come and take your freedom!” The crowd mustered as much energy as they could and roared.

*****

He had arrived as the sky dimmed and noticed the frenetic activity of the camp survivors. He did not have time to ask Agron exactly what was going on before Spartacus began to speak. When he saw the piles of bodies that Spartacus pointed to that lined the trench, he was impressed.

The biggest surprise of all was what they saw after passing through Crassus’ wall. They were not met with thousands of well-armed men. Instead, they faced a small troop of about one hundred soldiers, scared out of their wits. Weeks upon the ridge had not hardened their resolve. In fact, they were never told that the rebels might possibly try to escape. They were so shocked to see Spartacus and the others emerge through the hole they made that they all stood and stared at them rather than charging into battle.

It was a quick fight. The rebels overran the Romans in quick fashion. Nasir merely observed the fight and after all the soldiers were dead, He watched as Agron and the others began to lead the refugees across the trench full of dead bodies.

 


	11. The Second Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Separations abound as the rebels split. Murillo pushes Nasir to act. Agron begins his chosen path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains scenes of copulation between two adult consenting males.
> 
> Most of the scene between Spartacus and Agron was lifted directly from the show. I thought that parting should be as accurate as possible.

The soldiers ears were still ringing from the dressing down they had received from the Praetor. He was more than a little bit upset at the turn of events. They had been preparing to raid the rebel camp only to find it deserted and the wall they built breached. Crassus was also furious that his slave girl escaped. To make matters worse, as they were searching the ridge for any rebels that had been left behind, they found something terrible within a nearby cave. The bodies of several soldiers, who had gone missing littered the narrow opening and were frozen solid. The company lieutenant surmised that they had been caught in the storm and perished after they had attempted to seek shelter, but some within the legion were not convinced. There had been quite a few disappearances in the last few weeks, ever since the army had begun their march to Sinuessa. Those soldiers had been eventually tagged as deserters, but could they have somehow been related to the sightings of hooded figures near the camp?

The lieutenant had dismissed the concerns brought up by his men. He reminded them that the only thing they needed to bother themselves with was the capture and execution of Spartacus’ rebels. Those soldiers listened but then privately vowed to keep an eye on one another. They knew while they hunted the branded enemies of Rome, something or someone was hunting them.

*****

As the horde made its way down the mountain, they noticed the wind was less biting while the snow dissipated into small patches. There was no rest for their wearied bodies however, because Crassus had sent out advance legions to attack them. Every few days, the rebels clashed with the Romans leaving a trail of decaying bodies. Spartacus’ intent was to gain as much distance from Crassus as possible. He always wanted to find a place that was far enough away from the harshness of the winter. After the latest scuffle with the Romans, the tired rebels set up camp near a valley. While Agron oversaw the set up with Crixus and Spartacus, the old argument about what the rebels should do came up again. Crixus, who was tired of running wanted to make a real stand against Crassus’ forces. Spartacus thoughts were more focused on the safety and nourishment of the ex-slaves. His own doubts and Nasir’s words continued to needle him. He had to believe that everything he had fought was going to mean more than just dead bodies strewn on a battlefield. It was about freedom; if not his someone else’s. Dark dreams had haunted his mind of late. He kept seeing images of red serpents and heard the whispered warnings from his dead wife, Sura. With Crassus and Pompey closing in, it was becoming less and less likely that he would survive the end of the war. He was determined though that if he was to meet his end, he would ensure that as many as possible would have the chance to obtain real freedom, far away from the clutches of Rome.

“The day will come where we will have to stand and fight!” Crixus exclaimed. Agron too, was tired of running. They had descended the mountain with one thousand less in number and with their tails tucked between their legs after being defeated by the elements and Crassus. As much as he had been willing to follow Spartacus to the very end, his heart was starting to lead him down another path. His feelings concerning his dilemma were further complicated when it was discovered that one of Marcus Crassus’ personal slaves had escaped and snuck into the rebel camp. While he stood listening to Spartacus and Crixus go at it again, he imagined what his life would be like beyond the Alps. Would it be one of constant fear from being hunted by Crassus? And even if he did manage to elude the vengeful Roman what would his life be like? Would he continue to fight against the empire or would he be reduced to farming or herding goats?

He and Gannicus were sent from Spartacus’s tent to allow Crixus and Spartacus to continue their debate. Agron was pretty sure a decision was to be made soon, which meant he had to make one as well. As he watched a full moon bathed in red rise over the valley, he heard the cries of the newborn he and Spartacus had watched being born earlier. He wondered what kind of life the child would have. He had been born in the midst of war and uncertainty, but he had been born free. He drew a deep breath as his thoughts drifted to someone else. How would his decision affect his relationship with Nasir? He felt that so many things seemed to separate them. Nasir was no longer a mortal and Agron did not know if that difference could ever be settled between them. Nevertheless he craved Nasir’s presence all the same. He had not seen him since the night of the storm. He did not know if he had followed him off the ridge or not. Could he no longer deal with their differences either?

*****

“You confuse me so.” Murillo said as he sat beside Nasir on a grassy hill that overlooked a makeshift Roman camp. After Nasir had fed on a soldier who had went to a trench to piss, he trudged sadly towards the hill and lay upon the grass looking up at the full moon.

“You followed Agron for hundreds of leagues, sat through a storm in order to protect him and now that he and the rebels were able to escape, you have refused to go to him. Was not your reasoning for leaving Pandora was so that you and your love could be reunited?” Murillo continued. When Nasir didn’t answer, he pressed on. “What happened when you came upon him at Melia Ridge?”

Nasir sighed. “Nothing,” he muttered.

“Well if it was nothing, then why are you here and not with him at the rebel camp?” Murillo asked.

“Because I think Agron wants to die.” Nasir replied quietly.

Murillo surveyed his charge for a long while. He had allowed Nasir to travel to Melia Ridge alone because he felt the young lamina needed to be taught a lesson concerning the limit of his mental and physical powers. And when they had met at the border of Crassus’ follower’s camp several days before, he could tell that Nasir had been affected by his time on the mountain.

“He is a soldier is he not? Should he not want to die for what he believes in?”

Nasir scowled, “He fought for the right to be free. He was no longer in the gladiator ring desiring a glorious death. And why would he if given the choice to live…forever.”

Murillo shook his head so that the soft brown curls on his head swayed gently. “You asked him if he wanted to become a lamina.” He smirked. “If you had let me know before you traversed the snowy mountain that you were going to ask him that, I could have saved you the trouble. He said no of course.”

Nasir sat up. “How do you know he would say that?”

“I know because mortals who are full of life and have something to live for do not want to become laminas.” Murillo explained. “It is only when they are near death and full of despair do they seek another chance at life.”

“Like I did,” Nasir said.

“As did I,” Murrillo added. “It seems that his will to fulfill his destiny means more to him than the love he had for you.”

Nasir shut his eyes and bowed his head. “Why do you say such things?”

“Because you need to hear them,” Murillo said roughly. “This excursion has gone on far too long. You need to understand that as an immortal, you know the futility of the rebel resistance.” Before Nasir could protest, Murillo held up his hand. “I did not say that the cause was not just. But you are no longer a slave, Nasir. You do not exist under constant fear of death at any minute; therefore you can look beyond constraints of time and age. It is the most beautiful and the most horrific part of being an immortal: time no longer matters. But to Agron, it is all that matters. He lives for each moment because he does not know if he will survive long enough to experience another. No matter how much you try, you cannot make him grasp more than that.”

Nasir took everything in. He was always surprised when Murillo turned philosophical. “You sound like Pandora.” He said.

“She taught me well.” Murillo said and stood up. “It is time to return to her. Go to the rebel camp and say your farewells to Agron.”

Nasir looked up in surprise. “Go to Rome? No, I will not.”

“Pandora is not in Rome.”

Nasir looked even more surprised. “She is not? Where is she?”

“Nearby,” Murillo said vaguely.

“I thought she was taking the others to Rome to avoid battle.” Nasir asked as he stood up.

Murillo replied. “She did and then she left. She found that Rome was still not the most hospitable of places.”

“How do you know this?” Nasir demanded.

“She has her own way of staying in contact. She is aware of everything that has occurred.” Murillo said.

Nasir’s anger began to rise. “You have been following after me like some hound and then going back to her to report my actions?”

“Still your anger,” Murillo said dismissively. “Plannis is not Pandora’s only familiar. You have been watched by more than just I.”

Nasir was shocked. “I had no idea.”

“She did not spend her time at the rebel camp just feeding upon rebel blood. Now, it is time that you go.”

“I…cannot. I…”

“Nasir, you know this is inevitable. There is no reason to fear it.”

“He could still make another choice.”

“He will not.”

*****

It was a couple of hours before dawn before he finally found the rebel camp. As he recognized the smells and the sounds, a slight smile graced his face. It did seem like a lifetime ago when he was among the rebels, gathering food and weapons. It was hard work but he enjoyed erecting tents and cooking over low fires. He loved the battles most of all. He and Agron had fought side by side so many times. And now, it was over.

He had found a cave a couple of leagues away from the camp that had been created by the rivers that cut through the nearby valley, but he lingered near the outskirts of the camp. For some reason, he could not bring himself to enter. He knew he lacked the time to say a proper farewell to Agron. As he thought about the words they were going to say to another, he nearly shuddered. He always thought that not even the Gods could wrest each from the other’s arms. He heard the squelch of boots landing in mud and looked around. With his keen vision spotted two men patrolling the border of the camp. They were several hundred yards away but Nasir could still make out one of the men as the Cilician, Castus.

Nasir started towards them. He wanted some information and he knew the former pirate would be willing to give it to him. When he was finally close enough to approach, he made enough noise so that they would not be too startled when he appeared. The two men drew their weapons when they heard. When Nasir was in earshot, he called out.

“Castus, it is Nasir. I need to break words.”

The Cilician nearly jumped out of his skin. “Where are you? Show yourself!” He cried out.

With preternatural speed, Nasir was suddenly face to face with the man. “I am here.”

The other man with Castus yelled out and was prepared to run Nasir through with his sword when Castus recovered and grabbed his hand. “No!”

“He could be a scout for the Romans!” The man exclaimed.

“I assure you, I am not. I fought with the rebels…for a time.” Nasir said sadly.

“If that is so, then why crawl around camp like a spy, cunt?” The man growled.

Castus grabbed the man by the arm. “Close fucking mouth and return to camp!”

The man wretched his arm free from Castus’ hold. “You want to stay here with him?”

“I will be safer with him than with you shouting out and alerting the Romans to our presence. Go!” Castus said curling his lip in contempt.

The man turned away and trudged back towards the camp but not without throwing a look of deep loathing at Nasir. The lamina was supremely unconcerned. He turned back to Castus, “Do you know how far away the Romans are?”

“Good evening to you as well,” Castus quipped.

Nasir looked at him stonily, “There is a small garrison of around ten a little over a day’s march from where you are now. Crassus forces are less than a day behind them.”

“We are aware of that. We are preparing all for the move at dawn.” Castus responded.

“Where to?”

“A village at the end of the valley. Gannicus scouted it out. He said that there is plenty of food and very few men to guard it.”

Nasir nodded. He was pleased to know that the rebels were continuing to move on. The more distance the horde could keep between themselves and Crassus the better, he thought. “How far away is this village?” He asked.

Castus tilted his head, “Why have you not entered the camp to see Agron?”

Nasir’s eyes flashed. “That is none of your concern.”

“Perhaps, but you can understand my curiosity. You risked death to pluck him from freezing wind before. But now, you avoid him. Does your heart not feel the same?” Castus asked giving Nasir a shrewd look.

“You do not know what I am, do you?”

“I know you are Nasir. You are very desirable. What else do I need to know?” Castus asked as he stepped closer.

“You need to know that it is unwise to step any closer.”

Castus gave an exaggerated sigh. “You toss me fucking aside as if I am nothing. But I know you feel something for me.”

Nasir was slightly impressed with the man’s nerve. “Perhaps in another time or beyond the seas and in another land, but it is not to be. We are what are and we are where we are.”

Castus frowned. “You could have just said, ‘I love the German.’

“But you knew that already and still continued to flatter. You will see me among the rebels soon enough.” Nasir said. “Is Agron well?” He asked quietly.

Castus shrugged. “He is snarling and snapping at all who dare step in his path as usual. So yes, he is well.”

“Good. Please keep watch over him.”

“You ask much for so little!” Castus cried.

Nasir touched his cheek, “For me.”

Before Castus could respond, Nasir had disappeared into the shadows.

*****

The first rays of the sun crept over the valley as the rebel warriors stood at the peak, ready to raid the nearby village. As far as the eye could see, villas and well maintained cottages dotted the land. They were separated by small streams that held a bountiful of fish. Some heard the bellowing of cows which meant milk, meat and leather. The horde stood stock still and waited patiently for the signal. At the front of the pack stood Spartacus and beside him, Crixus. The raid would be their last together. The two gladiators so often at odds had agreed quite cordially to part ways. Crixus would lead his forces to march against Crassus. Spartacus would lead his people through the Alps. But at this moment, they stood as one. Spartacus raised his sword and gave a huge battle cry. The others responded. For some in the village, their last sight before death was a wave of humanity and metal descending upon them.

It was all over so quickly. Agron had been on dozens of raids and he could not recall one being as smooth and as coordinated as that one had been. Just as the rebels were to split apart, they had finally learned to fight together. The meaning was not missed by him. As he directed the surviving Romans to be shackled in a building where the grain was stored, he noticed one of the men wearing a necklace of phalluses. He felt a sharp pain in his chest as he remembered the one Nasir used to wear. It was now in a leather parcel that he carried along with other precious belongings. He saw Laeta, the former Aedile’s wife attempting to help the wounded. He would never understand Spartacus’ growing attraction to her, but stranger things had happened. He knew that all too well also. Specifically, Castus the wayward pirate had now become a vital part of the rebellion. He was decent with a sword and took orders fairly well but he was no replacement for Donar, whose presence was greatly missed. Just as he was about to put Castus from mind, he caught the man looking at him strangely. In fact, he had been doing so since they had first departed camp. He merely scowled at the man and turned away. He did not need to be pitied by a Cilician of all people.

As the first goat was propped above a large bonfire, the celebration commenced. Spartacus had brought out the wine himself and declared that all should enjoy themselves in honor of Crixus’ last night among them. As the late afternoon drifted into early evening, Agron found himself refusing to take multiple cups of wine. He wanted to be clear of head when he set off with the Gaul the next morning. He lingered near a doorway of a large villa trying to gather his nerve to tell Spartacus his decision. While watching Lugo frolic in a bathing pool full of nude women, Agron spotted Spartacus chuckling with Gannicus. He took a deep breath as he decided it was time to talk with his leader. While strains of, “My cock rages on!” were being yelled at full volume, Agron found and led Spartacus to a quieter corner of the place. Spartacus’ reaction to his announcement was not unexpected.

“Are you certain?” he asked.

Agron nodded slightly. “I had for a heavy span been pulled in opposing direction.”

“A thing I have noted. Gratitude for standing by my words, even if you did not always believe in them,” Spartacus said clapping Agron on the shoulder.

“I believed in the man and always shall.”

“I hope you find what you seek Agron.”

As Agron turned away, “I hope you find some measure of comfort, despite all that has happened. No one deserves it more, brother.”

They clasped hands and that was it, the parting of the ways between soldier and mentor. While he navigated through the throng of half dressed, drunken partiers he wondered how his news would be received by Nasir. He stepped outside and looked around. It was as if some other force had directed him to the spot because beyond the large fire that was still crackling stood Nasir. He walked quickly towards him and noticed his golden eyes flickered in the light of the flame.

Nasir breathed, “Is there a place where we can be alone?”

“Yes.”

Agron took a stick of wood and held it over the fire. After it lit, he led him to a cottage that was situated near a one of the small streams that ran through the village. Before he entered the threshold, he took Nasir’s hand and noticed that it was warm. Nasir had fed well from the stragglers left alive and on the run from the raid. Agron took the torch and lit the two oil lamps he found inside the main room. Nasir wanted to tell him that he did not require light to see, but he saw Agron’s furrowed, sweaty brow and decided not to.

“You seem distracted. What is weighing upon your thoughts?” Nasir asked softly.

“That I may not see you again before…”

“Before you left with Crixus…” Nasir finished.

Agron glared at him. “How did you know that?”

“It had been a long time coming, had it not? I had suspected long before our own parting that Crixus would want to make his stand against the Romans. I also knew that you shared the same desire to have vengeance fulfilled.”

Agron spread his hands. “All that you have said is true. Why did I think you would not have known?”

“I also know that I cannot turn you away from your heart’s purpose.” Nasir said shakily.

“Nasir I…”

“And that is why I am here to say farewell.”

Agron was stunned. “It has come to this then.”

Nasir was in agony. “Yes, it has. I made my choice and you have made yours. And now our choices have led us to part from one another again.”

Agron swallowed hard. “Of course, you could not follow me into battle under the sun because you would perish.”

It was Nasir’s turn to be stunned. “How did you know that?”

Agron smirked a bit. “Counter to what you have been told by others, I am not a complete fool. I was able to figure out that riddle on my own.”

“That is not the only reason. Lamina cannot risk detection. If the Romans knew of our existence, we would be hunted and used for who knows what dark purpose.” Nasir said. “I have violated a great many of my maker’s rules by following you and the rebels. Even when I was told to stay away, I could not.”

Agron reached over from where he was standing and stroked Nasir’s hair lightly. Nasir responded by grabbing Agron’s face gently and pulling it towards him. Their lips met. From then on, it was all hands, and lips and arms and legs. Nasir managed to break away from Agron’s searing kiss and push him through the door to a room where a pallet lay. Agron pulled Nasir to him again and they fell upon it.

He was enthralled by the new heat of Nasir’s skin. It had never been that hot before. He kissed and nibbled his lover’s now bare shoulder. Nasir in turn kissed and nipped Agron’s neck. He did not need blood that night. He needed Agron’s throbbing flesh enveloping him. Sex as a lamina was something almost beyond his comprehension. He could feel each of the thousands of tiny hairs that made up Agron’s slight beard scrape beneath his fingers. The scent of blood, sweat and male musk hung in his nostrils as he breathed deeply. That was Agron’s scent. The slight tanginess of his skin danced on both sides of his tongue and made it vibrate. As he lay on top of him, he could hear Agron’s heartbeat literally pound through his body and into his. He listened to the slushing sound of the blood traveling through his lover’s body and he could feel himself getting erect.

He moaned loudly as Agron licked the tip of his cock and then filled his mouth with it. Agron had always been eager to apply oral ministrations and he was very good at it. He nearly cried out as Agron drew in his cheeks and the head of his penis tickled the back of his throat. He gently tugged Agron’s hair as he saw his bob rhythmically. He was so close and then he seized up and shouted as a wave of euphoria hit him. He could not speak until it subsided. Agron, meanwhile was waiting for his mouth to be filled with Nasir’s seed but none came. The strangeness of the moment was quickly forgotten as Agron felt Nasir’s warm hand grab his cock. He lay on his side and Nasir flicked his tongue over his nipple while he stroked him. His lips left trails of hot kisses down his ribs and thigh until he reached the thatch of brown hair between. Nasir licked slowly, still remembering how Agron liked to be serviced. Far from his blustery, rushed nature, Agron in intimate settings was a deliberate and languid lover. He never liked to rush anything.

Agron squeezed his eyes shut and gasped lightly as Nasir’s tongue worked the underside of cock. He could feel hands softly cupping and caressing his testicles. There was a finger that lightly massaged and breached his opening and he was nearly delirious with pleasure. His hips began to buck and he could hear sucking sounds as Nasir swallowed his cock whole and held it in his hot mouth. He grunted as his orgasm began to come and by the time it hit him fully, he was roaring. His seed spilled over Nasir’s hand which he took and covered his own newly hard cock with. Agron wrapped his legs around Nasir’s waist and drew a deep breath. Nasir entered his lover slowly and patiently waited until the creases in Agron’s forehead relaxed.

The tightness was almost enough to make him climax at that moment but he held off and leaned forward. He started with shallow hard thrusts to the special spot he felt and Agron groaned in pleasure. He then rolled his hips and felt Agron’s cock rubbing against his stomach. His hair was grabbed pretty roughly but he didn’t care. He also didn’t mind Agron’s mouth covering his own as they moved together. He began to rock his hips faster and faster until the muscles surrounding his cock contracted and he growled. Agron reared his head back and panted rapidly as new wave of pleasure hit him. Nasir collapsed on his chest and closed his eyes and let the thumping from Agron’s chest fill his ears.

****

He woke up with a start and sat up. He looked around and saw his clothes haphazardly tossed around the room. He rubbed the back of his neck grimaced as all the aches and pains from the previous night’s activities began to attack his back and joints. He and Nasir had made love three more times after the first. He had never recalled ever being so insatiable. They had fucked on the pallet, on the floor and against the wall. And yet, he felt strangely unfulfilled. They did not say the things they needed to say to one another. Each thought a physical display would heal the pain of their goodbye. It did not for Agron. As he heard the rebels preparing to leave, he leaned back against the pallet and let the sting of regret pass over him.


	12. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron and Nasir battle with regret, disapproval and Romans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More stirring of the angst stew.

He could feel the weight of his shield all through his right arm as stepped over the twisted and bloody bodies of the Romans he and the other rebels had killed. It had been two weeks since they had left Spartacus in the valley and they had already faced off against Crassus’ forces twice. Each time the rebels had been victorious. Agron however found little solace with the victories. He was fully engaged whenever the battle commenced. But once the fighting subsided and the wails of the dying began, he felt empty. He missed his closest comrades. Saxa, Lugo and Gannicus had decided to stay with Spartacus. He still felt the pain over the deaths of Donar and Nemetes. It was Nasir who he missed most of all though. His thoughts drifted to his lover as he made his way to Crixus and Naevia who were smiling and embracing as they stood over their dead foes.

“We shall continue forward while Rome quakes before our feet.” Crixus declared. Naevia beamed at her man as if there were no other place she wanted to be.

“I pray for the day we crash the gates of the capitol and make the very streets run with blood.” She said breathlessly.

Agron said nothing but merely nodded at the two as he passed them on his way back to their temporary camp. While the others scavenged for weapons and coin, Agron sought only rest and drink. With the setting sun at his back, he looked forward only to darkness. He knew that if he drank enough wine, his slumber would be deep enough to prevent the dreams that had haunted him ever since Nasir had left him that last time.

*****

He heard his name being called as he tossed back the jug of wine Brictus had brought him. He was rather surprised because Brictus had always been Crixus’ man through and through. Perhaps his somber mood had been noticed and the wine was Brictus’ way of trying to lift his spirits. His name was called again and he scowled. He did not feel like being bothered. He walked out of his tent with an irritated look on his face. He looked around and saw Naevia waving at him from her spot in front of a large fire. He sighed a bit and trudged over to where she was.

“Has something happened?” He asked shortly.

She shook her head, still smiling. “No, we are still in high spirits from our victory today. We would have you join us, Agron.”

Agron shifted his stance. “I am rather weary. Perhaps another time.”

Naevia gave him a measuring look. “You are greatly responsible for our victory today. The ambush you planned was a thing of brilliance.” She raised her cup and called out, “To Agron!”

“To Agron!” The rebels surrounding her shouted in response.

The man himself felt his face flush with heat. He wasn’t used to being singled out and he didn’t know what to say. He simply raised his hand in acknowledgment and looked down.

“Share a drink with us at least.” Naevia persisted.

A cup was shoved in his hand from someone and he was led by the shoulders to a spot beside the fire. All hope of spending the rest of the evening in quiet, drunken solitude was lost. For a while, he and Naevia sipped their wine and sat quietly beside the fire. Naevia finally broke the silence,

“You miss them.” She said.

Agron stared into the distance and nodded. “I do not regret my decision. It was never meant for us to all traverse the same path because freedom means so many different things. Some obtain it through the shedding of blood, others by a journey through the mountains.” He shrugged. “I know that any dawn I face from now on may be my last. I also know that when death comes, I will embrace it as a free man and I will face it alone.”

“Are you at peace with that?”

“I will be.”

And he knew would be, even though he craved Nasir’s touch, missed the sound of Gannicus’ laugher and mourned the loss of Lugo, Saxa and Spartacus’ company.

“Even Nasir? He did not follow you. Was that at your request?”

“No,” Agron said and found himself smirking. “Nasir has always done what he has wanted.” He stopped and threw the rest of his wine away. “Our parting was mutual.”

“I cannot say that I understand why you decided to continue the relationship but I sympathize. I knew how much you cared for one another.” She said quietly.

“We still do.” He replied and said nothing more.

*****

Although he had never stepped foot in Capua as a mortal, he felt he knew the place because of the tales Agron and Spartacus had told him. He could even see the remnants of the damage caused by the fire Spartacus and the others set when they rescued Crixus from the arena. The darkened streets were quiet as he and Murillo strolled through the city. The people who were out, cast them brief, furtive glances before hurrying off. It seemed that the residents were skittish and war weary. They had every reason to be. Being known as the birthplace of Spartacus’ rebellion meant that there was a continued military presence. Stern faced soldiers were stationed at nearly every corner of the place. The lamina continued to walk through unbothered, even though mortals who were deemed the least bit suspicious were stopped and searched.

He followed closely behind the older lamina nevertheless and soon he found himself outside the door of a light colored building right off the main street. It seemed to open on its own accord and Nasir was led into a dimly lit hallway. He smelled fresh blood as he entered a large room at the end of the hall. He then saw a lamina sucking greedily from the neck of a young woman. Nasir could literally taste bitter, coppery fluid on his own tongue while he watched the life leave the girl’s eyes. Her body slumped and eventually slid to the floor as she died. Nasir continued to stare at her as he heard his name being called. “Nasir! You have come back!”

Plannis ran towards and Nasir tore his eyes away from the body near his feet and greeted the boy. “Plannis, the spy.” He joked. “It is good to see you as well.”

The youngster smiled and took his hand. “She is back here.”

Before he was dragged away, he hissed at the lamina. “Put the body away. The child does not need to see that.”

The female lamina scoffed, “He was the one who brought her here.”

He turned back to Plannis who seemed only concerned with bringing him face to face with his maker. He allowed himself to be pulled into a smaller room on the right. He then saw Pandora reclining in a large chair. A young, mortal male had his head in her lap while she stroked his hair. Murillo was already in the room and he leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek.

“I have something for you both.” She said. “You have traveled far and I am sure you want to whet your palate with something other than the blood of Roman soldiers.” She peered at Nasir.

“That is most generous of you.” Murillo exclaimed and set upon the young man. He was never one to refuse new flesh. Nasir remained standing where he was.

“Are you certain you will not partake, Nasir? He is the cousin to a prominent Senator.” She purred.

“I have already fed.” Nasir replied.

She raised an eyebrow. “If that is the case, then why are you here?”

“He has come back to us.” Plannis began but Pandora raised her hand to quiet him.

“I want Nasir to answer.” She said.

Nasir scowled. “If you are seeking some sort of capitulation on my part you are mistaken. I have not come to beg forgiveness. I do not regret any decision I have made. None.”

“Then why are you here?” She asked again.

He paused and looked at Murillo draining the blood from his victim. “I am here because I am a lamina.” His eyes began to glow. 

*****

As the weeks progressed, Crixus’ forces marched closer and closer to Rome. On clear days, they could see the outline of the great city nestled beneath the horizon. They were so close to conquering the heart of the empire. Agron could almost see himself marching into the city triumphantly. He savored the moment a bit before joined the rest of the rebels who were at the constructing large balls made of tree roots and cloth. Crixus had mentioned something about “fire” and “last assault” during their last strategy session. Agron only knew that with this oncoming battle, it was either win or die.

Win or die.

He felt a hand touch his hair and then move to the smooth planes of his face. The owner of the hand became bolder and started to move down his neck towards his chest. He covered the hand with his own and pushed it away. He did not want to be touched in that way. The young mortal looked puzzled at the beautiful lamina’s actions.

“Do I not please you, dominus?” He asked.

Nasir glared fiercely at the young man. “I am not your dominus!”

“Apologies, I-“

Nasir interrupted him. “Fall from sight. I tire of your presence.”

The young man bowed his head and slipped quietly from the room where Nasir had been for weeks. Ever since he had reunited with Pandora, all he did was feed and brood. Murillo watched the mortal duck away into the hallway and peered into the room. Nasir was stationed near the window with his back turned.

“Pandora has secured an invitation to Senator Gracchus’ celebration at his villa. Care to join us as we hunt among the wealthy and privileged of Capua?” He asked. Nasir shook his head.

Murillo leaned against the doorway. “So you plan to spend another night staring out of the window…or will you follow the rebels again?” The lamina had heard the soldiers talking of a horde of rebels marching outside the city. A number of them had been called to Rome to join the capitol’s troops.

Nasir had heard what the soldiers had reported as well. “I will not follow the rebels. I am going to stay here.” He answered still not looking at Murillo.

Murillo chuffed. “There may be hope for you yet. I do wonder what your reaction will be when news of the rebels’ defeat reaches us.”

Nasir did not fall for Murillo’s bait. “I did not know that predicting the future was one of your gifts.”

“I am no fortune teller, but even a simpleton knows that Crassus will not allow the rebels to step foot in Rome if he values his own life.”

Nasir finally turned to face him. “Then if you are not, spare the urge to share your pronouncements with me. I am living with my choice. It does not make knowing that Agron will likely die due to his easier to take.”

“I wish that Agron were already dead, then maybe you will finally start to live the life you have been given.” Murillo retorted and stalked away.

Nasir wanted to chase after Murillo and toss him through the nearest window but he knew it would do no good. He merely turned back to the window and watched the moon. Why was he here? he asked himself. How was languishing in Capua any different from suffering in Rome?

*****

He felt as if had been fighting forever. His body ached from the effort as he blocked and parried the sword strikes from the Romans. As soon as he cut one down, ten more seemed to appear. The rebel lines were disjointed and the fighting was scattered throughout the field. He saw Brictus killed, and Rexus, and then Donah. He nearly screamed in frustration when a burning sensation hit his back. He stumbled forward and then the fire was at his chest. He saw the blood run between his fingers as he tried to staunch the wound. His vison became blurry and he fell. He closed his eyes to screams of the dying and defeated rebels.

During the next few hours, he drifted in and out of consciousness as he was dragged along the ground and thrown into a wagon with the rest of his men and women who had survived. He moaned in pain as his battle leathers and boots were stripped from him. He thought he dreamed of hands pressing against the tears in his flesh. He barely felt the trickle of water that washed away the blood and dirt and even managed to hit the back of his throat. When he had been hit in the face for tripping while the Romans frog marched him into the part of their encampment where they held the prisoners of war, he barely felt it. His body was in shock and somehow it made the ensuing torture more bearable. As he was bound to a spike in the ground on his knees, he hung his head and waited for death to take him quickly. While he did, he managed to whisper, “Nasir" and darkness overcame him again.

*****

“Plannis, are you sure you have heard rightly?” Nasir asked, grabbing the boy by his shoulders.

“Yes, it is all the soldiers have been talking about. They said Crassus and his troops rushed in from the south and set upon the rebels. They had no chance.” The boy announced.

Nasir let go of him and leaned back against the wall of his room. “There were no survivors I imagine.”

“I heard that Crassus is crucifying the survivors and placing their bodies in rows outside his camp.”

Nasir ran his hands through his hair. To die in battle is one thing; to suffer the ignobility of crucifixion was another thing all together, he thought. The point of crucifixion was to humiliate and to cause the greatest amount of suffering. No one deserved such a horrible fate, especially Agron.

“I cannot allow them to do that to him!” He cried.

“You do not know if he even survived or not.” Plannis argued.

“I have to find out.”

“You are going to leave again.” The boy said dully. His face fell.

“I am just going to Crassus' camp to see if I can find out what has happened to him.” Nasir said.

Plannis frowned, “I thought you told Pandora that you were going to stay.”

“I actually told Murillo that.” Nasir corrected. He then looked at the child closely. “Why not come with me?”

“I am to travel with you to camp? I could never leave Pandora.”

“I would not let anything happen to you. I need a familiar to make the rounds during the daylight in order to gather information. It would be the same thing you have always done for Pandora.” Nasir insisted.

“I do not want her angry with me.”

“You are afraid then,” Nasir said trying to goad the boy. “I will go myself. You know that being a good lamina means that you cannot be afraid to make your own decisions.”

“I am not a lamina as yet.” The boy countered.

“And I wonder what kind you will be.” Nasir said slyly. “Like Phaedra? Like Murillo?”

Plannis looked slightly miffed. “No of course I will not.”

“I am leaving tonight. “

“And if Pandora asks, I will tell her the truth.” The boy continued. “The camp is several leagues south of here.”

Nasir knew then that he could never convince Plannis to leave Pandora. He pulled on his hood and left through the window.

While the Romans cheered over the news of Crixus’ defeat and his death at the hands of Marcus Crassus, Murillo spared little thought to Nasir during the following nights. He was so caught up in the celebrations and the willing flesh that drink and good news brought his way; he was slightly surprised when Pandora asked him had he seen Nasir lately.

“No, I thought my time watching over him was done once he arrived in Capua.” He told her.

She ignored his jibe, “I had thought he may have finally left his hovel and joined you in your revelry.”

“Nasir and revelry will never happen. He is too married to his melancholy to ever change. I fear more so now since news of the rebels being vanquished has reached his ears.”

Pandora eyes were squinted. “You do not think-“

“I do not know what is in his mind.” Murillo begged off.

Pandora began to get angry. “Plannis!” she called out.

They boy who had been nearby, jumped at the sound of his name being called. He had been dreading the moment to come ever since her progeny had sneaked away. He thought ruefully as he went to meet the coven leader that he did not want to be a troublesome lamina like Nasir.


	13. Death and Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron and Nasir both suffer from the consequences of their choices. Plannis and Murillo make future plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update. Comments and general whinging are welcome.

It took quite an effort for Murillo to keep himself from laughing in Pandora’s face. He knew that it would be an extremely unwise thing to do. Although her face was expressionless, her golden eyes were gleaming, a usual sign that she was furious.

“Of all the confounding, aggravating, insolent, ignorant…” She rattled off as she walked back in forth across her chamber.

“And he is all yours.” Murillo said, choking back a snicker.

“I do not understand this hold that Agron has over him.” She muttered. “I should have followed my first mind and killed him when I had the chance.”

Murillo was incredulous. “You do not understand?”

Her lips were set in a thin line. “No, I do not.  I know your intent, Murillo. My relationship with Marius has nothing to do with this.” And before he could respond she overrode him. “It would be in your best interest not to mention him or Rome again.”

Murillo raised his hands in a gesture of placation and remained silent. He always knew when to back down and not press his fortune. Pandora was more agitated than usual and to discuss her unsuccessful reunion with her lover would have been unwise.

“Are you going to go after him?” He asked.

She managed to stop pacing and sit in a nearby chair. Immediately, two young mortal women wrapped in light colored silks appeared and placed their heads upon her shoulders. “No and if he returns, I will not allow him to stay. I have been too indulgent with him. He is now on his own. I will sever all ties with him.”

Murillo was perplexed. “I can understand why you would be aggrieved by his behavior. But to destroy your bond with him when my own transgressions were much worse…”

“It is because of you my tolerance is so low.” She stated while she shook her head. “I will not run headlong into the night searching for a lamina that does not deserve to be found.”

“That is not like you to cast one of your own aside, much less one made from your own blood.”

“Nasir has disregarded that fact ever since I dragged him down from that ridge. Since he has so little thought for me and the ways of the lamina, perhaps he should stay running after the mortals like some lost hound.” She shrugged off the girls and waved them away.

“Do you regret turning him?”

She paused. “Regret is a wasteful emotion. What is done is done. I did make him but he is no longer my concern.”

Murillo left her then. He knew she was only speaking out in anger because if Nasir found himself in the least bit of trouble, she would come to his aid. It was the nature of the bond between maker and progeny. He allowed her the time and space to sulk. She was obviously frustrated in her attempts to keep Nasir at her side and still reeling over whatever transpired in Rome. He sought out Plannis in order to warn him to keep his distance from her for the rest of the night.

“She is in quite a state.” He told the boy after finding him playing with some wooden figures carved to look like soldiers. As self-possessed as Plannis could appear at times, he was still a child.

“She has been ever since he returned.” Plannis said absently, not looking up from his play.

“Nasir is quite stubborn and often acts against his best interests.” He pointed out.

Plannis pouted. “He was also bored and so am I. All we have done since we came back to Capua is stay in this house.”

“What adventure should we embark upon then?” Murillo asked grinning.

“Find one and I shall accompany you.” The boy challenged.

*****

The stench of burning, rotting flesh was almost overpowering as he stepped over piles of blood stained weapons and tattered clothing. In the near distance was a huge trench filled to the very edges with burning bodies. The myriad of sounds and smells confused Nasir. So much so that he could not concentrate enough to hone in on the one scent or sound that he was searching for. He scanned the unburned bodies and tried to make out the German’s bulky form but he did not see it. The flames licked the abundance of ripe flesh greedily and began to rise. He avoided moving closer in order to keep any sparks from landing on his robes and hood.

He turned away finally and made his way down the road that led to Crassus’ camp. He had run out of ideas as to what to do about halfway into his journey. He did not have the slightest clue as to where Agron would be exactly. He was even less clear as to what he would do once he found his lover. Would he have to fight off half the Roman army to free Agron? What if he was too late and the only sight to greet him would be Agron’s broken body nailed to a post? He suddenly realized that his search was nothing short of insane but he could not stop. Something was guiding his steps and he allowed himself to continue to be taken along.

Before the hand fully landed on his shoulder, he had grabbed it and twisted it. The soldier gasped in surprise and pain and found himself face to face with a being with glowing eyes and fangs. He spotted another figure in the corner of his eye and with his other hand, punched the man in the jaw. As his partner fell heavily to the ground with a thud, the Roman was frightened into silence by the thing holding him. Nasir grabbed the man’s collar and drew him closer.

“You seek your own death this night, Roman.” He growled.

The centurion began to shake and then urinated on himself. “No…no…” He whimpered.

“No?” Nasir inquired. “Then perhaps you can give me information. Quietly now; if you attract the attention of the others, I shall kill you in front of them.”

The Roman attempted to nod and Nasir began their strange interview.

“What part of camp is Crassus keeping the rebel survivors?” He asked.

The soldier looked completely taken aback. He had not anticipated the monster that held him would know or care anything about the rebels. He quickly regained his senses after Nasir twisted his hand tighter. He cringed and whispered, “In the rear!”

“Very good, now let us discuss the layout.” Nasir grinned maniacally.

*****

The water that was splashed on him trickled down and nose and throat and he coughed roughly to clear his lungs. His head lolled about his shoulders as he tried to gain his bearings. He was still bound to the pole and as he tried to open his puffy and injured eyes, he saw that he was surrounded by many others tied in the same fashion. His scalp stung as his hair was grabbed by a soldier and he was struck in the face. There were footsteps then and while his vision was still slightly blurry, he could make out the blond, smirking face of Caesar. He was walking beside a dark haired man decked out in the regalia of a Praetor. It was none other than Marcus Crassus.

“I know this one.” The Legatus drawled.

He was so overcome with fury he attempted to stand so that he could attack the grinning shit that stood before him. He was hit again for his efforts.

Caesar continued his commentary, “Agron, from the lands east of the Rhine.”

“Savage people,” Crassus said dismissively. “Holding no trust even among their own kind.”

“This one is of a difference. A gladiator, standing beside Spartacus in valued position. The Celt Gannicus and the fallen Gaul his only equals.”

Crassus nodded briefly at the learning of that bit of information. Capturing one of Spartacus’ generals alive was quite a coup. “Has he given voice?” He asked the soldier who had hit Agron.

“Only to curse,” the man replied.

“There is yet more upon tongue, you fucking cunts” Agron taunted. He was rewarded with another punch.

Caesar laughed at Agron’s bravado. “More dead than living, yet still conjures breath towards insult. I would care to own gladiators such as this and turn hard men toward harder purpose.” He said surveying the rebel at his knees. Agron spit out blood and hoped it landed on the blonde man’s foot.

Crassus would hear none of it. “I would see this one softened. Nail him to the cross. Let it stand warning to all who refuse to break proper word!” He exclaimed as his pale blue eyes shimmered.

Agron’s heart began to pound as he was grabbed from behind. The ropes that bound him were cut and he was thrown against a piece of wood that was laid on the ground. Splinters dug into his back as he tried to squirm away from the rough hands that held his arms apart. More men appeared with hammers and large nails. He began to struggle in earnest.

“I shall yet have your fucking head!” He grunted at Caesar.

The Roman laughed again and went to stand near Agron’s left arm which was now bound to the wood. He took a hammer and a nail from the soldier who stood beside him and knelt down. He then said, “An impressive feat for one who will never again grasp sword.”

Agron’s entire body shook as he readied himself for the agony he knew he would soon feel. When the nails were driven slowly into the bottom of his palms, his screams reverberated throughout the camp. They were heard by everybody except one. That one slumbered in an abandoned temple a handful of leagues away, not to awaken until the last remnants of the sun were gone.

*****

There was much mumbling and cursing as the last of the stragglers caught sight of the rest of the battalion who were less than a league ahead. They were part of the last group of soldiers sent to find and kill any rebels who had managed to escape the battle outside of Rome. After finally getting the order to return to camp, the exhausted group were slowly trekking through wild field and brush. They were in such poor form, their swords hung limply at their sides while their feet dragged and tripped over roots and tall tufts of grass. They carried their helmets under their arms because their faces were sweating so much. After navigating a steep hill, a few of them collapsed to the ground for a breather. They passed water skins and chatted about what their plans once they reached camp, they mostly involved getting serviced by the prostitutes that filled the follower’s camp. As one soldier finished the last of the water from his skin, he noticed something that looked very much like a booted foot sticking out from the ground. He blinked and peered more closely. He wasn’t sure if the blaring sun was playing tricks upon his vision. He nudged the soldier who was sitting at his right and pointed.

“What does that look like to you?” He asked.

“I care not if I cannot eat it.” The other man said gruffly.

His partner jabbed him pointedly for his jest and gestured for him to look again. He did and then shrugged, “It may be a limb or something…”

“I know,” the Roman said and stood up. He held his sword at the ready as he walked slowly towards the object. He came upon a dry creek bed and found two bodies piled on top of one another. They both wore battle leathers and their ripped breastplates had been tossed beside them.

“Solarius!” The soldier shouted.

His colleague grimaced from his spot. He already knew it was going to be horrible, whatever it was. He hated the fact that his rest had been cut short. He got up reluctantly and joined the other man. When he saw the corpses of his fellow soldiers, he barely blinked. Seeing men stiff and rotting from death was nothing new.

Solarius shrugged, “They are dead. We will alert the commander once we reach camp.”

“But they were killed!”

“That is how soldiers die usually.” Solarius deadpanned.

“They did not die from battle. They were murdered and the killer attempted to conceal his deed by dumping them here.” The soldier looked around nervously. He was bulky man with a doughy face that often wore a hard expression.

“You cannot know that!” Solarius argued. “It is time for us to depart. We need to catch up with the others.”

“I do know!  We found our men dead and hidden like this when we marched towards Sinuessa En Valle. I then heard stories from the legions at Melia Ridge. They found dozens of frozen dead men stowed inside a cave.”

Solarius looked uncomfortable. The man’s harried tone carried some weight of veracity. He began to scan his surroundings as well. “Why would the rebels go through the trouble of concealing the bodies when we know exactly where they are?”

“That has always been my question. And I believe the answer is that this is not the work of rebels.” The soldier replied quietly.

“And who do you believe is doing this, Antonius?”

The man did not answer but instead began walking the length of the creek bed, jumping at every sound he heard. “We should search.” Antonius said finally.

The other men who had been listening immediately began to protest.

“We will fall farther behind the others!”

“Fuck this, I am moving towards camp!”

Solarius argued, “Our orders are to join command, not piss around the mire searching for phantoms.”

Antonius rounded on him, “Something or someone is hunting our men. If we do nothing, we may be the next to perish!”

The others fell silent. No one wanted to admit that Antonius’ words had frightened them. He continued, “There are but shadows some have said. Others told of tall hooded figures with gleaming eyes and gawping mouths that dripped blood. One time, we found one of our men with all of his fingers broken and the bones of his arm protruding from skin. He was as white as curd and there were marks upon his neck as if some animal had attacked him.”

“If that is true, then we should report this to the commander. We could rally more troops and search in earnest.” Solarius said.

Antonius shook his head. “Many of us have spoken with command. They have refused to believe us.”

“But surely after seeing these two men,” Solarius countered.

“They do not want to believe!” Antonius interrupted.

“I do not want to believe.” One of the other men said. “I am going to find the others. I want no part of this.” He turned to go and the rest of the men followed. Antonius was incredulous. “Where are you going? We have to find them before they find us!” Soon there was no one left but him and Solarius.

“Where should we begin?” He asked.

*****

There was no sound save the steady drip of water that flowed and darkened the temple walls. The small structure, built in honor of Ceres had been recently abandoned due to the constant fighting in and around the village where it was situated. The last occupants were several displaced families who had relieved the temple of all its grain stores before they had left the place for safer refuge. It was in the deserted and dank cellar where Nasir slept.

He had reluctantly begun his rest after a frustrating search around Crassus’ camp. The place was enormous and heavily guarded. He had spent most of the night hours searching the hundreds of crucified bodies that were lined near the borders of the camp. He was relieved to not have found Agron but he did recognize several others. He could not save any of them because they all had died. Although he did manage to sneak inside the enclosure, he had to constantly hide himself from the sharp eyes of the Roman sentries. When he finally did make it to the area where the rebels were being held, he was overwhelmed by the sheer numbers. There were hundreds upon hundreds of men and women bound together. He realized then that he would need to rethink his rescue plan. He had barely beaten the sun as he ducked inside the dark confines of the temple and shut his eyes.

And he did not hear the heavy footfalls of the two mortals who had entered during their search. Antonius had spotted the place and dragged a reluctant Solarius inside. While Antonius investigated the hallways, Solarius said skittishly, “There is no one here. Let us move on.” His tone belied his words though. Ever since Antonius pointed the place out, a feeling of dread crept within his bones. He sensed a malevolent presence and wanted nothing more than to leave.

“Wait a moment, there is another level.” Antonius said.

“How can you be certain?” Solarius asked.

“There is always a lower level in the older temples.” He replied while noticing a battered wooden door at the end of the hall. When he tried to open it, he found that it did not budge.

“Curious that it would be locked.” He muttered.

“Why would a locked door be curious?” Solarius asked irritably.

“Look at this place,” he retorted. “It has been ransacked and all tribute and treasure taken. It is unlikely that that a hungry thief would leave no room unchecked. This door is locked because someone or something does not want to be found.”

“Then perhaps we should heed their wish.” Solarius said.

Antonius ignored him and began to bang his shoulder against the door. It still held fast so then started to kick it viciously with his foot. Small cracks began to form within its frame but it still remained unmoved. “Help me!” He shouted at Solarius.

The other man walked slowly towards the door. His eyes widened with every step. He had served in the legion for decades and had never had he felt such trepidation. “Stop,” he said weakly.

“What?” Antonius demanded. “Take your sword and aid me in hewing it down.” He did not wait while he took his own sword and began to hack at the door. He had no idea what had taken over him. It was if he was possessed. Nothing mattered more in this world than to find out what lurked behind the door.

Solarius finally managed to get his arm to cooperate and added a few feeble strokes of his own. Eventually, the door gave way. Antonius kicked the broken remnants away to reveal a stairway that led to a dark abyss. He felt a grip on his arm and turned to the man beside him.

“Do not go any further.” He was warned.

“I intend to search. Stay here if you are of a mind, coward.” Antonius sneered at the older man.

The insult stung Solarius but even then he was not compelled to move. He released Antonius’ arm and watched the man descend the stairs. He gripped his sword tightly in his hand and kept his eye on the nearest exit. Antonius nearly slipped on the slimy stairwell and wished that he had thought to carry a lit torch with him. He had not anticipated entering so dark a place. The light from the hallway barely reached the second step of the landing. He reached inside the pouch that hung at his belt and pulled out a flint. He went back up the stairs and told Solarius to hand him a piece of wood and light it with the flint that he gave to him.

“I do not think this is wise.”

“What madness has gripped you?” Antonius cried.

“I do not know. Since you spoke of hooded shadows and mouths filled with blood…” Solarius trailed off.

Antonius grabbed his shoulder. “We will be fine if we stay together and alert. Apologies for my harsh words earlier, I have yet to come across a soldier as brave as you.”

He knew when he was being flattered but appreciated the effort. He merely nodded and broke off a piece of the ruined door and lit it with the flint. A part of him wanted to keep walking and not look back but he could never leave a fellow soldier to fend for himself. He handed the makeshift torch to Antonius and followed him down the steps.

There was a slight smell of mildew in the air that came from the rotting, waterlogged walls. The Romans walked carefully through the small cellar moving the firelight swiftly over the darkest of the corners. There was nothing to be found at the corner on the left or the right. There was nothing behind them so when they checked the front they did expect to find anything until…

Solarius nearly bolted out of the room. He could have sworn he saw a prone figure lying on the dingy floor right in front of them. Antonius saw it too and with a shaking arm, brought the torch forward again. There it was; a body lying on the floor. Antonius silently passed the torch to Solarius and held his sword aloft.

“What are you doing?” Solarius whispered frantically.

“I want to see who it is.”

Before Solarius could protest further, Antonius crept silently towards Nasir who had remained unmoved despite the noise and light. The Roman brought his foot forward and nudged Nasir with it. There was no response.

“Get up,” He said roughly. When he saw nothing, he bent down and lightly touched Nasir’s neck. The skin beneath his fingers was cold. He did not detect a heartbeat. He turned to Solarius, “He is dead.”

“Why is a dead body locked inside the cellar of an old temple?”

Before he could receive an answer he heard a loud hiss. He nearly dropped the torch when he saw the Antonius gasp with shock as the man on the floor reached out and grabbed his throat. He yelped and juggled his sword to keep it from clattering on the ground. Antonius was wheezing as he tried to claw at the fingers that held his throat in a vice like grip. Solarius got a firm grip on his sword and rushed toward the madman. He plunged to blade into his chest. The man did not relinquish his grip on Antonius and glared at Solarius. The last thing he saw before he was thrown against the opposite wall was bared teeth and glowing yellow eyes. His head crashed against the stone wall and he slumped to the floor.

Antonius felt himself losing consciousness and could barely register what he saw. With his free hand, the man slowly drew the sword from his chest with a grimace. He was then pulled roughly forward and felt a sharp pain at his neck. Lack of air and the swift draining of his blood rendered him unable to fight. The last breath left him and he dropped dead to the floor at Nasir’s side.

Nasir pawed at his chest as he felt a burning sensation there. It had been months since he had felt anything even close to resembling pain and it completely surprised him. He pulled down his robe from the spot his chest where the sword had pierced and felt the wound meld and close. He heard himself keen like a wild animal in frustration because his movements were sluggish and clumsy. No one had ever told him what it was like to be awakened before the sun had set. He blinked slowly in an attempt to adjust his eyes. He had no idea what had just happened. He could not get his bearings while he tried to attempt to move away from the dying torch. He saw the two bodies that were laid before him in the room and looked utterly confused. All he could think about was moving away from the light. He dragged himself to another dark corner and as the nothingness surrounded him again, he fell to slumber.

*****

Each breath felt like torture. It was if an invisible band had been fastened around his chest and tightened as each hour ticked away. He did not know how long he had been hanging, his hands were numb but there a million tiny pinpricks running up his legs and feet. Why had death not come quickly for him on the battle field? Was there a worse way to die than to bake in the sun under the sneering faces of Caesar and Crassus? He heard the rumblings of the soldiers as they approached.

“Move aside!”

“What has happened?”

“We have to take this one down on orders from the Imperator.”

The searing pain in his chest suddenly stopped but fresh blood poured from his hands from where the nails had been cruelly ripped out. The hands that held him afterward were gentle. The wounds on his chest and back were wrapped in cloth. His palms were rinsed with water. He did not understand what was happening and had no idea why he was spared. What new tortures did Crassus have in store for him?

Meanwhile back at the temple, night had begun. Nasir woke up to find himself crouched in a corner. He sat up with a start. The familiar burn was in his throat and he heard a faint heartbeat nearby. He stood up and saw the first body but it was dead. He noticed another form lying face down against the wall. He hurried toward it and rolled it over. He could tell the man was gravely injured. His face was pale and his breathing was ragged. Nasir took the man’s wrist and bit into it. He drank right before the last breath passed between the doomed Roman’s lips. The blood was not nearly enough to satiate him but he vowed that other Romans would shed more blood that night. He left the cellar and set off into the night headed for Crassus’ camp.

Just as he reached the outskirts, he saw a group of people headed towards him. He was about to sidle off the path until he noticed that they walked slowly, unlike the purposeful gait of soldiers.  He continued forward until he reached the group. They looked like rebels. He stopped one of them, a young man with his arm in a bloody sling. “What has happened? Why are you leaving camp?”

The young man looked startled and shook his head. He had no idea who the stranger was before him wearing a hood. He refused to speak and attempted to push forward. Nasir grabbed his arm. The youth tried to yank it away but Nasir held fast and looked him straight in the eye. All the youth knew then was oblivion.

“Crassus has released us in exchange for his son.” The boy said dreamily.

“Who has his son?”

“Spartacus.”

Nasir was startled. Many thoughts were running through his head. So many that he did not notice the young man shaking himself from his reverie. Nasir looked at him again. “Do you know of the fate of Agron?”

“Agron survived the battle and was kept in the camp with us.”

“Was?” Nasir asked, catching the meaning.

“Crassus then had him crucified.”

Nasir looked livid. “That is not possible. I would have seen his body among the others that were lined outside!”

“The Imperator commanded Agron be hung in front of the prisoners as lesson.”

He let go of the boy and rushed towards the camp. As far as he had traveled and as much as he had gone through, he was too late. He cursed the cruelty of fate as he ran past more rebels. If he was to find Agron dead, there would be a multitude of Romans who would join him in death.

*****

Even with the endless stream of prisoners marching slowly out of the camp, he knew he would attract attention by walking against the tide of humanity. He moved as quickly as possible and ducked inside the main gate carefully avoiding the soldiers who were shepherding everyone out. As he had already infiltrated the camp the night before, he knew where the prisoners were held and made his way swiftly there. When he arrived, he threw off his hood and assumed the stooped posture of a tired and wounded man. He wandered among the rebels who were still waiting to leave looking for any sign of his lover. He saw several wooden posts lined before a wooden barricade and detected the strong, coppery scent of blood. He did not linger too long because he did not want to attract attention to himself before he found Agron.

He was becoming overwhelmed though. His unrequited thirst was causing him to become distracted. His eyes would zero in on the open wounds of the injured who walked past him. He needed to find out what happened to Agron quickly. He milled around the crowd for a few more moments and nearly ran into a group of several young men. His desire was making him clumsy as well. In his irritation, he was about to chastise them when he saw what they were doing. They were attempting to get Agron on his feet and walking.

Nasir’s breath caught in his throat. Agron was still alive. He walked straight to him ignoring the curious glances of the men and placed his palm gently to his face. “Agron, I am here to take you from this place.” He whispered.

One of Agron’s eyes was swollen shut but the other swam with tears. “You have returned to me.” He mumbled.

Nasir then took Agron’s arm and wrapped it around his shoulder. The others merely backed away when they saw Nasir bear Agron’s weight easily. They were astounded to see that their commander’s feet barely scraped the ground.

“Who was that?” One of the asked.

“I believe it is Nasir.” The other responded.

“I thought he was dead!” Yet another exclaimed.

Nasir pretended not to hear as he led Agron away. He was not dead and by whatever force, be it from the Gods or otherwise had kept Agron from death as well.


	14. The Final Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nasir receives some unexpected help. Agron returns to his people. Farewells are given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Bruder" is Brother in German.

“Agron!” He heard a shout but he did not have the energy to respond. He had collapsed to the ground in exhaustion and pain.

“Water,” he croaked.

Nasir rolled Agron on his back and felt his forehead. Under his sensitive fingers he could feel Agron’s flesh getting hotter by the minute. He looked over his shoulder in hopes of finding someone walking past with a skin of water. When he did not find anyone, he closed his eyes and sniffed the air for the scent of water. He did not detect any. He looked at Agron again and saw that his eyelids fluttered and his breath became shallower. Nasir literally beat his hand lightly against Agron’s chest in frustration. He did not know what to do and if he did not figure something out soon, Agron would surely die.

“Here,” he heard a voice near his left ear. He was so startled, he nearly forgot the prone man in front of him. Murillo was suddenly at his side and the biggest surprise was that Nasir had not heard him at all.

“Are you going to take it or do you want my arm to fall off?”  The lamina demanded as he held out a small water skin. Nasir snatched it from him, opened the top and tilted the opening towards Agron’s parched lips. The German took tentative sips at first but then began to gulp greedily as the cool liquid quenched his dry throat. He did not stop until the skin was empty. He gasped and swallowed hard, wanting nothing more than to stay where he was and rest.

“I will not ask how you got here or how you found me.” Nasir told Murillo. “I do want to know why you brought the child.”

Plannis who was standing beside Murillo answered, “I wanted to come. Murillo promised a great adventure.”

Nasir snorted, “When I asked, you told me you would not leave in fear of angering my maker. I suppose a journey with Murillo was more tempting than one with me.”

Murillo shrugged. “I am more persuasive than you.”

Agron groaned as a wave of pain flowed through him. Nasir turned his attention to him again. “I need to find him more water and somewhere to rest.”

“I have to give it to the rebel, he steadfastly refuses to die.” Murillo quipped.

“Not without lack of trying.” Nasir said.

“There are some caves just a few leagues from here. They are near where the rebels are presently camped.”

“Can you lead us to them?”

“I can, and Plannis can go into camp and get the water Agron needs.”

“Gratitude, Murillo.” Nasir said quietly.

“We must move quickly, dawn approaches.”

Nasir nodded and allowed Murillo to pull Agron by the arm and haul him up over his shoulders. He watched Murillo speed ahead while he let Plannis climb upon his back and followed after.

*****

Agron woke up briefly with a start as he was laid gently upon the floor of the cave. He saw the face of the lamina he had confronted outside the rebel camp staring back at him and tried to move away. Nasir was at his side in seconds and placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. “He is here to help. He will not hurt you.”

Murillo quirked an eyebrow but said nothing until Agron calmed down and fell into an uneasy sleep. Murillo then gestured Nasir to join him outside the entrance of the cave. When he did, they stood and faced each other in the waning moonlight.

“How angry was she was when it was discovered I had left?”

“It does not matter at this point, Nasir.”

“I would prefer to know if she plans to hunt me down and exact some type of revenge.”

Murillo gave him a strange look, “You think much of yourself and your worth. That is not her way.”

“Would she go after Agron?”

Murillo was not sure of the answer to that question. “I do not think so. She does hold him responsible for your waywardness, though.”

“Then there is reason to be concerned other than your assumption that I am conceited.” Nasir argued. “Hurting Agron would wound more than anything she could do to me and she knows that...”

“Yes, he is your weakness,” Murillo broke in. “We all know that.”

Nasir eyed him suspiciously, “Then I have to ask now. Were you sent to kill Agron and bring me back to her?”

“No I was not. I know that you would never return once you left Capua. You are determined to see an end. I am curious to see what end it will be.”

Nasir sighed. “I honestly did believe that Agron would die in battle. But when Plannis told of Crassus holding prisoners for crucifixion, I had hoped there was a small chance that he would have survived. I wanted to get him in time before he was nailed to the cross. I was too late. He may not live after all.” He looked over his shoulder and listened hard to Agron’s heartbeat. It was rapid but irregular.

“Pandora will not pursue you. She is angry and jealous of your relationship with Agron because it is so unlike her relationship with Marius. Having you moping around reminds her of that.”

Nasir scoffed, “She a lamina who is hundreds of years old. She has no reason to be.”

“And yet she is. She could only hope that Marius would be as devoted to her as you are to the mortal. I admit, I am rather envious myself.”

“You surprise me.” Nasir said.

“I will surprise you with something else. Our blood has healing properties.”

“What?”

Murillo went back into the cave and kneeled next to Agron. He pulled away the cloak that Nasir had wrapped him in and exposed his chest. He undid the bandage that covered the red and swollen sword wound.

“What are you doing?”

“Come over here.”

Nasir kneeled at Agron’s other side and carefully watched Murillo, readying himself to attack the lamina if he went back on his word.

“Give me your arm.” When Nasir hesitated, he said firmly. “It is time you began to trust me.”

“I do, I only want to know what is happening.”

“You are going to help Agron heal.” He grabbed Nasir’s arm and turned it wrist up. He then took his other hand and cut the flesh with the sharp nail of his forefinger. Nasir grunted but did not pull away. Murillo then turned Nasir’s arm around to allow the blood to drip onto Agron’s wound. “Watch,” He commanded.

Nasir’s eyes slowly widened as he witnessed the cut began to close. Plannis lurked just inside the mouth of the cave and took in the scene with wonder.

“If you feed him your blood, his internal injuries will heal too. He will in fact feel better than he ever has.” Murillo said.

Nasir carefully propped Agron’s mouth open and pressed his bleeding arm to his lips. “Drink,” he whispered.

Agron opened and closed his lips automatically thinking it was more water to ease his thirst. But when the metallic taste hit the back of his throat he turned his head and grimaced.

“Agron, you must drink.” Nasir pleaded

“No,” he gasped weakly. “I do not want it. I do not ever want it.”

Nasir frowned, but Murillo bit his own wrist and collected the emerging blood from the bite onto his fingers. He then swiped them over the Nasir’s cut and it healed instantly. “That is enough. It seems you did not feed enough again. Too much blood loss would not be safe for you.”

Nasir covered Agron back up in silence and said, “You again have my gratitude.”

“I accept it this time.” Murillo told him. “It is time for our rest. The sun is about to rise. Plannis, rest a while as well. When you awaken, make your way into camp and gather water and food for yourself and Agron. He will need it before we move him once more.”

The boy nodded and made himself comfortable next to Agron who had drifted off to sleep again. Nasir wiped the blood from his lips before he moved deeper within the cave away from the light.

*****

It was his worst nightmare yet. He was about to face off against the entire legion of Romans. As they rushed towards him, they transformed. Their eyes began to glow and they all began to bear fangs. He tried to back away, but his limbs were grabbed and pulled. He suddenly felt the sting of dozens of sets of teeth cutting into his flesh. He opened his mouth but nothing came out as the creatures swarmed and devoured him.

“Agron!” Plannis shouted, shaking him awake. The man beside him was stirring violently in his sleep.

His eyes flew open and he sat up looking around. He searched the cave with wild eyes until they fell upon the boy beside him.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded.

Plannis looked irritated. “I am watching over you.”

He took some time to collect his thoughts in order to remember where he had seen the child before. “I know you from somewhere.”

The youth nodded. “We met at the rebel camp. Nasir introduced us.”

Realization dawned on him, “You were with that woman! The one who…”

“Pandora, yes. She was there.”

Agron scowled, “Where is she?”

“She is not here. Murillo and Nasir are resting. I have to go now to camp and get food and water. Stay here until I return and do not leave.” The boy said as he got up and prepared himself to go.

Agron was a bit bewildered at the fact that he was being ordered around by a child. “Wait…”

Plannis needed to make things short and to the point. “We are all here to bring you back to Spartacus. Nasir will escort you back himself when sun falls.”

“But why?”

“He is our brother. And he loves you.” Plannis answered simply. He gave Agron a small smile and left the cave.

Agron watched the boy leave and then tried to stretch his numb limbs. The floor of the cave could be described as nothing more than abusive. He rubbed his legs in an attempt to get the circulation moving and noticed that his palms did not hurt as much. He touched his chest gingerly and was shocked to see that the ugly wound was gone. He had no idea what had happened to him, but he was determined to find out. He struggled to his feet. The effort tired him out so much that he had to lean against the wall of the cave. After the wave of dizziness subsided, he continued on, moving deeper into the cave. The further he explored, the darker it became. He kept forward until he tripped over a solid form and heard a hiss. He backed away in fright when he saw two golden eyes cut through the blackness. He turned and fled and did not stop until he reached the opening of the cave. He wanted to keep running all the way to the rebel camp. He wanted to forget what he had seen but he could not because it was his nightmare come to life.  Exhaustion hit him again and he slumped to the hard rocky ground. He had not eaten in days and he needed more water. He knew he was in no condition to go anywhere. He bowed his head at the futility of his current situation.

*****

Plannis returned hours later piled down with meat, fruit and drink. Agron could not help but compliment the boy on his industriousness.

“Twas nothing,” Planinis begged off. “People are more willing to help a child in distress. I sell distress well.”

Agron paused in between gulps of the much welcomed water. “Is that how you gained Nasir’s attention, by feigning distress?”

“The trouble was real that time. A man was about to hit me before Nasir stopped him. I would have been really hurt if he had not stepped in.”

“And yet, so many have been hurt because he did.” Agron said bitterly.

Plannis looked troubled, “Are you angry with me?”

“No...Yes.” Agron replied. “If it had not been for you, Nasir would not have gained the attention of that woman.”

“Pandora.”

“I do not give a fuck what her name is. What she has done is unforgivable.” He went back to the scene within the cave.

“Nasir is a lamina because he chose to be one. If he had not, he would be dead.”

“I wonder would he be better off.”

Plannis sneered, “Would you be?”

They did not speak again until the sun set. Agron heard the slight rustle of robes brushing against the rocks and turned. There was Nasir and Murillo emerging from the bowels of the cave. Their eyes glowed and their faces were twisted.

Plannis pointed in the distance. “There are a group of stragglers just at the edge of camp. They have not entered because many in their group are injured.” The lamina were silent as they left the cave and hit the path.

Agron was alarmed. “They are going to feed on those people?”  He asked Plannis.

“Go ahead and try to stop them then if you object.” The boy answered.

*****

Nasir was pleased to see the gaping wounds upon Agron’s palms had scabbed over. A true sign that they were healing. “Let me see your back.”

Agron turned around as instructed and let Nasir inspect the torn flesh. “Not much improvement here. I could…”

“I do not want any blood.” Agron said abruptly.

Nasir took his hands away and allowed Agron to turn back around. “We should head to camp then.”

“No words of gratitude?” Murillo asked Agron.

Agron’s temper flared. “I did not ask to be fed blood!”

“Then perhaps we should reopen your wounds and allow you to bleed out then, you ungrateful cunt.” Murillo bit out.

Agron began to rise. His eyes bore into the Murillo. “Speak to me again and I shall tear fucking heart from chest.”

Murillo grinned. “Oh so brave, Agron. And yet, so foolish.”

Agron began to charge but Nasir stopped him easily. “Enough!” He shouted. “We will go to camp and find Spartacus. You will not have to worry about being offered blood again.” He indicated Murillo and Plannis. “I ask that you two stay here. I shall return, probably before dawn.” He said meaningfully.

He placed a hand at Agron’s back and led him away. They followed the path away from the cave and came upon a clearing. Nasir kept in step with Agron’s slower strides. They said nothing as they walked together back to the rebel camp. It was almost as if the last weeks had not happened and they were returning back as normal from some scouting mission. Nasir smiled slightly at the thought. Before they reached the border of the camp, Agron took his hand and held it.

“I did not think I would be back among them again.” He said sadly.

Nasir squeezed his hand gently in acknowledgement. “Come, let us find Lugo and the others.”

They entered the camp and saw that it was a crowded as usual but there was a sense of sadness that hung in the air. With the return of the remnants of Crixus’ forces, news of those who had fallen spread. The two passed many bowed heads and tear streaked faces. Nasir thought to himself, _this was the real cost of battle._ Some of the inhabitants recognized Agron and called out his name. He only had the energy to nod. He was drained from the walk and from the scenes at the camp.

“Agron!”

They both looked up and saw Saxa rushing towards them.  When she finally reached them, she grabbed Agron’s shoulders and cried, “Bruder!” He gathered her in his arms and held her tightly. When he let go, his eyes were wet.

“Where are Spartacus’ quarters?” Nasir asked her.

Saxa nearly jumped as she had not noticed Nasir beside Agron. “You brought him here?”

Nasir nodded. Saxa squared her shoulders, “I will take him to Spartacus.”

“Lead the way, but I will follow.” Nasir insisted. She readjusted the waist strap that held her knives and then seized Agron by the arm. Nasir brought up the rear as they weaved through the crowds towards a line of tents. At the last one, Saxa stopped and threw back the flap. She pushed Agron inside and Nasir entered behind him. He entered to see Agron and Spartacus embracing.

“Brother, you are a welcome sight!” Spartacus said heavily after they parted.

“As are you,” Agron said.

“Saxa, can you fetch Gannicus and Naevia?” Spartacus requested.

“Yes, we are also not alone.” Saxa muttered and tilted her head towards Nasir as she left.

Nasir sighed loudly, “I assure you that I am capable of announcing my own presence.”

“One that is not so welcome.” Spartacus said.

“Good evening to you as well. I am only here to escort Agron back to the safety of camp.”

“You have done so, now you can depart.”

Nasir smirked. “You are under the impression that I am still at your command. I come and go as I please, mortal.”

“Cease Spartacus,” Agron said as the rebel leader began to retort. “Nasir has saved my life and cared for me. Allow him to stay for my sake.”

Nasir was chagrined because he did not want Agron to plead on his behalf. Spartacus was annoyed because he still thought Nasir was dangerous and he had not forgiven him for what he had said at Melia Ridge. However, they voiced no further objections.

Gannicus burst into the tent, “You overgrown bastard!” He cried and hugged Agron. Before he had time to recover, Lugo had crashed in and gathered Agron in a weepy embrace. “Bruder!” he sobbed. Gannicus noticed Nasir standing at a slight distance observing the reunion of the generals and strode over.

“We finally meet again.” The Celt said without the slightest note of nervousness.

“I have missed your company.” Nasir replied.

“And I yours, but I doubt I could live up to all the chaos you have caused.” He smirked and held out his hand. Nasir took it gratefully.

“Nasir!” Lugo shouted.

Before he knew it, the German threw his arms around him in a big bear hug. He had not had this much contact with mortals in quite a while and it was overwhelming.“Greetings, Lugo,” he gasped. “You can release me now.” Lugo did but then gifted him with a kiss on the forehead. Nasir could do nothing but chuckle.

Naevia finally entered the tent and took in the scene. She spotted Agron and tears began to fall down her cheeks. He said nothing as he wiped them away and stroked her face.

“To see you standing here, warms heart.” She whispered.

“If only…” he began. She shook her head. “He would not hear such words. He would be just as pleased to see you.”

“We will hold a memorium for Crixus and the others who have fallen later this night. But we would have you tell us what happened to you at Crassus’ camp first.”

“Of course,” Agron said and the others settled in to hear him.

*****

“You survived crucifixion. Not many men can tell that. I do not know of any.” Gannicus said solemnly after Agron had finished talking.

Agron held up his scabbed palms with a bitter expression, “He wanted to provide lesson to the others to answer his questions with respect. He slaughters us and then wants us to hold his fucking cock.”

“I want to see his head cleaved from shoulders,” Naevia ground out, showing the first signs of anger since she rode into camp, nearly dead and carrying Crixus’ head.

“We will meet in battle soon enough. For now, our task is to deliver Crassus’ son to him unharmed.” Spartacus said. Nasir could hear Naevia grinding her teeth from across the tent.

“How did you manage to acquire the son of the Praetor?” Agron asked.

“I borrowed a lesson from Crassus himself. I had some men ambush Pompey’s scouts and assume their roles in order to set up a meeting between Pompey and Crassus. Crassus instead sent his son to the place where we set up. It was not the man himself, but we were able to use his captivity to our advantage.” Spartacus explained.

“That was brilliant.” Agron remarked.

“At least Naevia was able to exact some revenge on the man who…” Spartacus could not continue.

Nasir looked at Agron who then asked, “What do we do next?”

“Prepare the people to move northwest ahead of Pompey’s forces while out army readies to meet Crassus.” Spartacus replied.

Nasir had heard his fill and departed from the tent. He stopped short of a group of women feeding and bathing their young children and babies in bowls of water. Soon afterwards, Agron joined him. “Lugo has agreed to let me share his tent.” He pointed to the last one in a line opposite of Spartacus’.

“All right. Your wrappings need changing. I will send someone to fetch fresh cloth from the medicus.”Nasir said shortly.

When Nasir received the supplies, he went to work in the darkness of Lugo’s tent. Agron wanted to light a torch but Nasir told him it was not needed.

“You can see in the dark, among other things. I had forgotten.” Agron stated.

Nasir cleaned and dressed Agron’s wounds without further comment and after Agron had taken in another meal, they joined the crowd at base of an ancient arena that had been carved out of the rock of a cliff. Earlier, Spartacus had held his own version of the games, where the rebels had killed the Romans they had captured during their ambush. Nasir could still smell the blood hidden under a shallow layer of dirt and sand. He breathed deeply.

“For Nemetes”

“For Diotimus”

“For Oenomaus”

“For Duro”

The shouts of the names of the fallen had gone on for hours it seemed. Until lastly, Crixus’ name was called out. Spartacus allowed Naevia the honor of setting his remains on fire while the crowd yelled his name. Spartacus implored them the yell louder in order to split the heavens. Crixus deserved no less and Nasir agreed.

*****

Lugo to his credit had given Agron full use of the tent for the night after finding the company of a lovely young blonde. Agron was too tired to even think about fucking and Nasir was feeling less than amorous himself. He had read Agron’s thoughts when they were in Spartacus’ tent and knew that his lover was planning to join the final battle with Crassus.

“Will you stay?” Agron asked as he stood before him and ran his fingers through Nasir’s black hair.

“Even after knowing your plans, I do not know.” Nasir replied stonily.

“What do you know of my plans?”

Nasir threw him a side-long look. “You as good as shouted your intention to fight with Spartacus.”

“Of course I will. At the moment, I am in no condition to fight, but I will if he will have me.” Agron declared.

“I cannot do this anymore.” Nasir said and stepped away from Agron’s reach. “If you are determined to die, I cannot watch it happen.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Something other than march towards certain death. But we have danced this dance before. I know what I ask would be refused.”

Agron threw up his arms. “I have told you that I cannot become what you are. I made a vow-“

“Stop Agron!” Nasir cried. “Do not think to try to placate me with that excuse.” Agron seethed at the accusation but Nasir continued. “You may love me, but you despise what I am.”

“I do not!”

“You do. I see the hate in your eyes for Murillo. I feel you cringe when touch the coldness of my skin. You refused my gift of blood in order to heal your body. I have come to the realization that you would rather die a mortal death than live for eternity as something you hate. Even if it means spending it with me.”

“Nasir, my choice to fight involves more than just you.” Agron argued.

“Tell me that what I have said bears no truth.”

“Nasir.”

“TELL ME!”

Agron began to breathe heavily. The argument was taking way too much out of him. “No, I do not want to become some thing that lurks in the night and sucks blood. I want to be able to see sun. I want to drink ale and eat meat. I want to live as a man…”

Nasir said flatly. “You want to be what I no longer am.”

Agron pleaded. “It does not mean that I do not want to be with you. Mortals live among the lamina, look at Plannis.”

“As if the choice for you to become my familiar would be more acceptable. The job of a familiar is fraught with danger. Plannis is successful because he is a child and is not seen as a threat. He will also be turned into a lamina when he reaches maturity. You would be seen as a threat. Also, you are a grown man and will grow old. I would still have to watch you die. That is not acceptable to me. Your death will never be acceptable to me!” Nasir finished with a trembling voice.

Agron was plaintive. “But to truly be with you means that the man I am would have to die. I cannot accept that.”

Nasir nodded in resignation. He knew he had lost the battle and to stay would be useless. “I wish you and the rest of the rebels good fortune and noble deaths.” He said and swept from the tent. Agron called out to him but Nasir had disappeared.

*****

He had wound his way among the sleepless for a while, unable to leave. He knew that once he stepped foot out of the camp, he would never return. His losses were piling up. His maker had cut ties with him and his relationship with Agron was over. He needed to finally decide how he was to live his life as a lamina. While he mulled over his plight, he saw Castus stride past him carrying a bowl of food in his hand. He was walking quickly back to the area where the memorium had been held. Nasir followed him because he had read his thoughts and they had said, “Naevia.”

“You must eat something.” He pleaded with her as held the bowl in front of her.

Naevia merely shook her head. She sat at the lowest row closest to the ground and watched the last of the embers from Crixus’ funeral pyre flicker.

“It will do no good to enter battle ill from lack of nourishment.” He said.

She wanted to shout at him about how she felt, how food or drink or anything no longer mattered now that Crixus was gone. Instead, she buried her face in her hands.

Nasir said quietly, “He is right. Slowly killing yourself from hunger and thirst will not ease pain.”

They both jumped in fright for they had not noticed the lamina standing nearby. Nasir could hear Naevia’s pulse quicken and aimed to soothe her nerves. “Peace Naevia, I am not here to cause harm.”

“Why are you lurking in the shadows then?” She demanded retreating back towards the upper rows. She wished she had brought her sword. “You should be with Agron.”

“No, I should not.” He countered.

“What does that mean?” Castus asked. He was not frightened at Nasir’s presence, but he was unsettled at the man’s ability to appear from nowhere.

“It means Agron and I will not see one another again after the moon falls.” He answered.

Naevia could not help asking, “Why? You led him to camp. I had thought you would stay with him until he heals.”

“Things change. Agron wants to fight with you and Spartacus against Crassus instead of leading the refugees through the mountains.”

Castus noted the sadness in Nasir’s tone. “You would not have him fight.”

“I would have him live.” Nasir said forcefully.

“If Agron wants to spill the blood of Romans and die doing so, then that is his choice.” Naevia said.

“I know all about the choices we have made Naevia, and what they have cost. I have no intention of keeping Agron from doing what he wants. This is not a discussion I want to have. I do want to offer apologies for my attack on you. I was not in control of myself at that time. Please know that I would never hurt you on purpose. You are… or were one of my greatest friends.”

Naevia sniffed loudly. She had not been prepared for Nasir’s apology. “I…I accept.”

“And,” he began again. “I am sorry for the loss you have suffered. Crixus was a mighty man and warrior. He will be missed.”

She was not prepared for that statement either and began to cry again. “Gratitude.” She stammered. “I have missed this part of you.”

“And I you.”

“Will you walk with me and Castus back to my tent?” She asked tremulously.

“I can.”

She allowed Castus to help her down to the ground and settled between the man and the lamina. They walked together in the moonlight as if they were old friends on a casual stroll. Naevia almost felt comfortable with Nasir beside her but she was glad Castus was with her as well. Even though he had offered his apologies, she knew how fast and powerful he was. She was not about to take any chances, too much had changed. When they reached her tent, she turned to Nasir, “This is where I say goodnight.”

“Get some rest and eat something.” He implored. “This is where I say farewell.”

“We will not see one another again?”

He replied, “No, we will not. I have cherished our time together. Be at peace.”

She could not bring herself to hold him fully but she did take his hand. She gave it a firm squeeze. When Castus handed her the bowl he was still holding, she took it and entered her tent.

Castus began to leave and beckoned Nasir to walk with him.

“I must leave the camp soon.” Nasir said as he walked with the former pirate to the border of the camp.

“You really mean not to return?”

“I will not return.”

“Fucking Agron!” Castus exploded. Nasir glanced at him in slight surprise.

“Why are you angry?” He asked.

“He does not know what a fool he is being by allowing you to walk away from him!”

Nasir curled his lip, “Agron knows exactly what he is doing.”

“I know if it had been me, I would do everything in my power to make you stay.” The Cilician asserted.

“It is an easy thing from your position to say that.”

Castus halted and touched Nasir’s arm. “It is because I mean it!”

“You do not understand everything and you do not know what I am.”

Castus was exasperated. “I do know that you like to think me a fool. I know that you are not a normal man. That does not matter to me.”

Nasir was about to argue but he then saw the earnestness in the man’s face in the moon’s rays. He smiled wryly. “Maybe had we met at another time?”

“I am here now. You can stay with me.” The touch upon Nasir’s arm became firmer.

Nasir shook his head. “No, there is nothing but death here. I need to go and discover how to live.”

“If you ask it of me, I will go with you.”

“I will not ask that of you. I will never ask anyone that again. Farewell, Castus.”

Castus released his arm. “Agron has no idea how fortunate he was.”

“Perhaps he does, I knew how fortunate I was.” He was becoming sad again. “Take care, Castus.”

“Farewell, I shall never forget you.”

Nasir gave him a genuine smile. “Gratitude.” He then turned away and walked out of the camp.


	15. War with no Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mortals begin their war while the lamina fight one another. Many fall but some manage to remain standing with unexpected gifts.

Plannis turned the brass arm bracelet in his hand over and over. “Are you certain?”

“I would not have given it to you had I not been.” He replied.

“What should I say when I give it to him?”

Nasir thought for a minute. He had a list of things he wanted Agron to know, but Plannis was a child and could not be burdened with carrying emotionally laden messages back and forth between them. “Nothing,” he said finally. “He will understand once he receives it.”

“I shall give it to him in the morning. After that, will we be moving on?” Plannis asked.

He was quiet again. “We will. I am going to rest now. I am weary. It has been a hard night.” He touched the boy lightly on the head and went in the bowels of the cave where it was most dark.

*****

Agron remembered when he first held the freshly made bracelet in his hand. He had been so pleased that the blacksmith had followed his instructions and had produced such a beautiful piece. He remembered how excited he was as he hid the gift inside Nasir’s bedding where he knew he would find it. But now he was holding it again and feeling a different way entirely.

“Did he leave some message…?” He asked tentatively.

Plannis shook his head. “He said you would understand once you received it.”

Man and boy were standing in Lugo and Agron’s tent not looking at one another.

Agron fingered the band gingerly. “I believe I do.”

Plannis made to leave before Agron stopped him, “Tell him my heart will never beat for another.”

The boy nodded and left. When he stepped outside the tent, he had to shield his eyes from the brightness of the sun. His vision was so obscured he did not see the being that approached him until she was right in front of him. She was a young woman with blonde hair and she was holding an infant.

“You are Plannis are you not?”

He nodded and was about to ask who she was but she cut him off. “Pandora is looking for you.”

*****

Spartacus was having a difficult time keeping the crowd at bay as he led the Praetor’s son to his waiting escort. The handoff would conclude the deal struck between the two leaders: Five hundred rebels for the safe return of Crassus’ son. As he spotted Gaius Caesar in the distance, he drew the boy closer to him as he tried to duck the hurling rocks and spittle that was aimed at the young man. He understood their anger. Crassus had been responsible for so much death and suffering. His son, determined to follow in his father’s brutal footsteps was known to have killed Crixus and the swarming mass tried their best to show how displeased they were.

Just as they were about the reach Caesar, a woman broke from the horde and plunged a dagger into the boy’s chest. Spartacus recognized her as the slave of Marcus Crassus who had left him at Melia Ridge. The sounds were crowding his ears all at once. Caesar was screaming, “You mad cunt! Do you know what you have done?” Agron was yelling for the crowd to get back. Gannicus was bellowing at the Romans with Caesar to stand down or be killed. Amidst all the chaos, Naevia stood still and watched the young woman whose name was Kore stare at her blood soaked hands. They had shared a moment together a few nights before. She knew that the girl had suffered sexual violence and they had forged a bond. Naevia had told Kore that evening that if there was a chance for her to balance the scale, she should take it. Kore had obviously taken her advice to heart.

While Spartacus and Caesar debated over what to do since the other half of their deal was laying on the ground dead, Kore offered up herself in exchange. Spartacus was stunned but he felt he had no choice but to take her at her offer. As she was tied and led away by a nervous Caesar, Kore caught Naevia’s eye. As she held the brunette girl’s gaze, Naevia wondered what fate her action would bring. Kore was sacrificing herself for the rebels. Naevia believed it would be the last time she would ever see the girl alive again. From the injuries and scars she had witnessed from the battle survivors, she surmised that Marcus Crassus was not a forgiving man.

As the boy’s corpse was loaded onto a cart and taken away, Spartacus called the rebel leaders to his tent to confer. Crassus’ vengeance in response to the death of his son would be swift and brutal he presumed. It was time to put the final preparations for war and escape. As he listened to Spartacus detailing his plans, Agron’s palms began to itch madly. He was on his way to being fully healed but he would not be battle ready by the time the rebels would have to face Crassus. It did not matter to him though, he was going to fight no matter how senseless it seemed. He was going to fight, even though it meant losing the one person he had ever really loved outside of his family. His thoughts drifted from Gannicus describing the terrain near the Siler River to his brother Duro. He remembered how his younger sibling so desperate to prove himself worthy, engaged Crixus in battle when they all were slaves at Quintus Batiatus’ ludus. As over matched and bloody as he was, Duro refused stay down even when Agron had cursed him. In the end as he suffered defeat nobly, his brother had won the respect of his opponent, his brothers at the ludus and Agron himself.

As he walked slowly through the throngs of bustling people, he saw Castus lining weapons and shields on the ground. He walked over and picked up a large round one. The beginnings of an idea began to thread inside his head. But before it could be fully formed it was interrupted.

“I do not think any of these swords would be suitable for you.” Cassus drawled.

“I have not tested any of them yet.” Agron said puzzled.

“It would make no difference. You could have the best weapon ever forged and you would find reason to toss it aside.” The Cilician said bitterly and stalked away. Agron was completely perplexed as he watched the Cilician leave.

 “He has gone fucking mad.” He muttered to himself. He examined the shield again, holding it lightly against his still tender palms. He started to walk again, barely registering where he was going exactly. The idea was beginning to take shape. By the time he reached the blacksmith’s marquee, he knew exactly what he wanted.

*****

“You told of ships that leave for Sardinia every few days.” Nasir remarked as he and Murillo had come back from feeding. The other lamina surveyed him with interest. He had wondered if Nasir would go back on his word again and follow the rebels to their final confrontation with Crassus.

“Yes, the port runs west of the Appain Way. If you have enough coin, you can easily book passage where you can slumber under the deck without being disturbed.” Murillo replied.

“So you have taken the journey then?”

Murillo nodded. “I have been to Sardina quite a few times. The trip is not too arduous. If the weather and wind are good, it is a two day trip.”

“What are the lamina like there?” Nasir asked carefully.

“The same as they are anywhere else.” Murillo said. “There are wise ones and foolish ones. There are those who embrace darkness and those that seek peace. The challenge is finding out where you fit in.”

“I do not think I could endure the confines of a coven.” Nasir stressed.

“You do not have to. That is your choice. Although, arriving in a new place alone without introducing yourself to the established coven leader of that area is considered insult.” Murillo explained.

“I will keep that in mind.” Nasir said as he spotted Plannis eating his evening meal outside the mouth of the cave.

“When do you plan to leave?” Murillo queried.

“Very soon. I suppose you will return to Capua?”

Murillo sighed. “I must return Plannis to Pandora and take my punishment for luring him away.”

Nasir found himself actually being concerned. “What will she do to you?”

Murillo merely shrugged. “She may banish me for a time after she vents her wrath upon me. You seem worried about my well-being.”  He grinned.

“I certainly would not want you hurt because you chose to come to my aid.” Nasir said gravely.

“I am not worried. We have parted with bitter words between us before, that is not new to me. Perhaps I should catch a boat myself and sail to Sardinia to join you.” He began to laugh at Nasir’s scowl. “I jest!”

Nasir began, “Murillo…do not think I have not been grateful for your help.”

Murillo stopped him. “I know and I also know that we can only be the company of one another but for the briefest of times. I have much better things to do than to travel the world with the dourest lamina in existence.”

Nasir smiled slightly and climbed up the path to meet the boy who was waiting for them. “Did you do as I asked?” Nasir said.

Plannis nodded. “He told me to tell you that his heart will never beat for another.”

Nasir turned away as his eyes began to burn. Plannis turned his attention to the approaching Murillo. “I have a message for you as well.”

“Which is?” Murillo asked with a bit of trepidation.

“She is coming.”

*****

The rebels worked through the night and into the next day. Gannicus and Spartacus were going over final preparations when they spotted Agron attempting to help load supplies onto a group of pack horses. Spartacus caught his attention and beckoned him over. As the German trudged over to him, Spartacus noted that although Agron’s wounds looked slightly better than they did when he first came back to the camp, he looked far from completely healed. There was also a haunted look that hung in the German’s eyes.

“The supplies look all packed and ready. Gratitude for your help with the preparation for the trip into the mountains.” Spartacus told him.

“I am preparing to fight to with you and the others against Crassus though.” Agron said.

Spartacus and Gannicus shared a brief look before Spartacus drew his sword and held the hilt out towards Agron. “Take it.”

Agron shook his head. “I am not ready to grasp sword.”

“How will you be able to fight?” Gannicus asked.

“I will find a way.” He replied.

“Agron, the people need to be led through the mountains.” Spartacus stressed.

Agron looked determined. “They do but my place is with my brothers fighting by their side.”

“I could command you away from the battle field.” Spartacus said.

“I am a free man, though. Why deny my choice to fight for the freedom of others?” Agron retorted and turned away before Spartacus could respond.

“He is half dead, Spartacus. He cannot fight.” Gannicus argued as he watched Agron’s slow gait.

“You heard him. I cannot stop him.”

*****

The evening of their departure had come and Spartacus stood before the people he had led out of bondage. Men, women, children and the old from lands near and far surrounded the rebel leader in what would be their final farewell. Agron pushed through the crowd carrying an enormous battle shield. It was equipped with a strap on its underside that allowed him to slip his injured hand through. On the outer edge of a shield a sharp blade protruded out. Agron fingered the edge as he thought that the blacksmith had never done better work.

He stopped right in front of Spartacus who eyed the shield and the blade. Spartacus held out his hand. “You are the last of my brothers from the ludus of Batiatus. You honor me by fighting by my side.”  He said solemnly.

They grasped forearms like the warriors they always were and like the brothers they would forever be. Agron released Spartacus’ arm and headed towards where Naevia, Lugo and Castus stood. He knew with everything in him, that he was about to march to his last battle. Duro was on his mind as well as Crixus, but it was the thought of Nasir that weighed so heavily upon him. They had ended things so badly but there was no time left to make things right.

Meanwhile, Nasir had set off to the western ports at the first light of the new moon. He had said his farewells to Murillo and Plannis who were heading north after receiving a summons from Pandora. They were to meet her and the rest of her coven on the mountain facing the Appain Way. Nasir could not help but notice the parallels between the lamina and mortals. They were each facing off against those who they thought had wronged them. He on the other hand, had grown weary of conflict. He knew how painful it was to try to save someone who did not want to be saved and to try to change a war that could not be won. All his effort had been for naught. He was alone as he had feared.

*****

Agron wasn’t as tired as he thought he would be after the march to the battle field. The rebels had settled on a flat ridge that overlooked the banks of the river. Just beyond the peak, they could see the customary precise rows of torchlights coming from the Roman camp. As he surveyed the field, he saw a man on a horse rushing at them. Spartacus bellowed for a spear and tossed it at the man and beast. The horse reared up so violently, the man was nearly thrown off. He did manage to shout, “Crassus wants to break words!”

He was not prepared to see the Praetor Crassus or the traitor Caesar again. It took everything in him not to rush the men and throw them off the ridge. Crassus asked to speak with Spartacus alone and the supporters from both camps shifted with unease. Spartacus agreed after warding off Agron’s glare and Crassus barked at Caesar to follow command. As they left Spartacus and Crassus to engage in their final tete a tete, Caesar caught Agron’s eye and smirked again. Agron hoped that whatever deity happened to be listening, he sent up a silent prayer asking that Caesar would meet his death in the most humiliating and painful way possible.

While the mortals were meeting, the immortals were doing the same several leagues away near the base of the mountain. Murillo and Plannis had finally arrived after a tiring journey. It seemed that Pandora wanted their sojourn back to her to be as unpleasant and difficult as possible. Murillo had finally tired of his maker’s petty tortures. While he paused to allow Plannis to gulp down some water, Phaedra appeared at his side and stroked his cheek as she glided away again. Then, Pandora came into sight. Murillo heard Plannis hiccup in surprise beside him.

“I am most displeased. I had planned to stay in Capua and rebuild my coven, enjoying the comforts of my home and the willing flesh that visits upon it. And yet,” She paused. “I am here on some forsaken mountain to retrieve a child and a jackass.”

“If I had known how pleased you would be at our arrival, I would have dressed better.” Murillo joked.

Pandora suddenly rushed towards him, grabbed him by the collar of his robe and hiked him up in the air. “You take this as some jest as if you have no idea how close to real death you truly are.”

“I am well aware of it.” Murillo choked out.

“Then chose your next words carefully or they will be your last.” She warned and dropped him. She then turned to Plannis. “And you, I saved you from being sold into bondage. You were eating from trash piles. Your mother and father were killed because they aided the rebels. You had nothing and you were nothing.”

Plannis bowed his head. She continued her tirade. “I trusted you more than this poor excuse of a lamina that stands beside you. But you betrayed me and left without my permission!” She grabbed his shoulders roughly and shook him none too gently. “You were to receive the gift of eternal life! You are unworthy of it!”

“Cease your chastisement of the boy.” Murillo cried. “He accompanied me because wanted Nasir to come back. You ignored the boy because you were too concerned about your rejection in Rome.”

“Silence!”  She screamed.

“And you were angry that I no longer cared to worship at your feet or wipe the blood from your lips. Oh Pandora, how pathetic you have become. You sought to replace me with Nasir but he held another in his heart and had no interest in being enslaved by you.” He said maliciously.

“You fucking-“

“How it must gall you to see all your progeny and your familiars turn away from you.”

She pointed at him. “You lead them away with your lies and indulgences.”

He sneered at her, “No, you drove them away because they could no longer tolerate the world having to be about all about you.”

She struck him then. It was so hard the flesh began to fall from his cheek. “Phaedra, take Plannis.”

The boy backed away and fright. Murillo struggled to get up where he had fallen. He had to save the child. In a flash, he grabbed the female lamina by the neck and twisted her head off.

“NO!” Pandora roared. She charged toward him but was stopped in her tracks as her chest was pierced right through by a heavy sword thrown by Murillo. He knew that it would only stop her momentarily and he grabbed Plannis and ran as fast as he could. He had delayed their appearance on the mountain until nearly sunrise. He found he had to now outrun his furious maker along with the rising sun while carrying a frightened child.

“Fly!” Plannis screamed in his ear. “You can fly, Murillo! Do it! She is catching up to us!”

As commanded, Murillo took to the air. It was a rare gift indeed for a lamina to be able to fly. It was one that he had not divulged to anyone but Plannis. As he ascended, he could hear the frustrated screech from the ground from Pandora. While he flew, he noticed the sky becoming lighter near the horizon. The sun would be arriving soon and he had to find a safe spot for Plannis and a resting place for himself. He scanned the ridge below and saw some dark shapes scattered on the ground. He landed rather roughly near the largest group.

“They are from Spartacus’ camp.” Plannis whispered.

“Stay here with them. Do not stray off. I am going to find a cave nearby. If possible, remain here until sunset.” Murillo directed.

Plannis nodded and found a space between some rocks. After finding a comfortable position, he drifted off to sleep. Murillo took to the skies once more, grateful that he was able to escape the clutches of Pandora. He knew that he would eventually have to answer for the death of Phaedra, but he would not have to that night.

*****

The new dawn burned at his eyelids and he opened them reluctantly. His sleep had been fitful and unpleasant. As he stirred along with the rest of the warriors, he spotted more red eyes and scowls. It was obvious he had not been the only person who had a terrible night’s sleep. He lightly touched Nasir’s arm bracelet that he placed around his wrist. He bemoaned the fact that he had lost Nasir’s broken phallus necklace after his last battle. It had provided him a certain measure of comfort. He had not been a man who placed faith in things such as luck but he sent a silent wish that the brass ring would bring him some.

The time had finally come for the last rebel stand against the mighty Roman army. Whatever exhaustion, fear, or sadness the rebels felt was set aside. They were ready and stood at attention waiting from the signal to proceed from Spartacus. Their leader was about to speak until he got a good look at Agron’s shield. He had not paid attention to the design on its face before then. It was of a red serpent. He said softly, “Great and unfortunate things.” It was the warning Sura had given him before he left her to go fight. He had dismissed it as nothing but a dream, but how could he again at that moment?

Agron saw that Spartacus’ gaze was transfixed upon his shield and was slightly alarmed. Had the fates told Spartacus something of note? “What does that mean?” he demanded.

Spartacus’ shook himself from his reverie and said, “It was just something that Sura told me.” Agron waited for further explanation but none was given. Spartacus no longer looked contemplative. He was extolling his troops to fight with everything within them. He let them know that there were free and always would be, no matter what the empire decreed. Agron yelled in response with the rest but his heart beat madly upon his chest as he saw the massive army across the field. They were outnumbered in every way, but they would still fight.

Naevia swallowed hard and thought of her man. Lugo merely smiled and welcomed death in hopes of taking many Romans with him to the afterlife. Castus thought of the sea and of a simpler time before landing at the ports of Sinuessa En Valle. He wondered if the beautiful Syrian would finally be impressed with him. All other thoughts ceased when Spartacus gave the signal to begin their rush down the ridge.

It had begun.

*****

Laeta had just emerged behind a rock after relieving herself when she stumbled upon the young boy sleeping in a narrow crevice.

“Hello?” She said softly. When he did not stir, she leaned over and poked him. He awoke with a start and looked around wildly.

“Why are you sleeping there? Come out and break fast with the rest of us.”

He coughed a bit nodded in acknowledgement. While she helped him from his hiding place she asked, “What is your name?”

“I am Plannis, my lady.” He replied.

She smirked a bit. “I am no longer a lady.”

“Are you not Roman?” He said.

“No,” she said after a pause. “I am Fugitivus.” She then took his hand and led him to a small circle of people who sat around a small fire. They sipped bowls of hot gruel and nibbled on dried pieces of fruit.

“Can we spare some for the boy?” She asked them.

“He can have the rest of mine.” A girl with brunette hair responded and held out some fruit for Plannis.

“Gratitude, Sybill.” Laeta said.

Plannis took the offered fruit and devoured it rather quickly. Between mouthfuls he asked, “Is this all that is left of the rebels?”

“No, the rest took to the mountains to the east ahead of the troops of Pompey. We stayed here to await the return of the rebels once they finish fighting Crassus’ armies.” Sybill said. She pointedly avoided saying “defeated.” She knew that certainty of victory was nonexistent. She only hoped that Gannicus would be able to escape the carnage and join the rest in their escape.

“The rebels are close?” He asked.

“The fight is happening now, just beyond the base of the mountain.” Laeta said anxiously. “We are to wait here. If no one appears by next sunrise, we are to make our way North.”

Plannis could hardly believe what he had heard. He, Murillo and Nasir had planned to get as far away from the war as possible. Now he was sitting right on top of the battle. What if the Romans overrun the rebels and make their way up to where they were? Could he outrun the Romans as well as a vengeful Pandora? For the first time since the soldiers appeared at his door that fateful morning, he feared for his life.

*****

Spartacus was a man who learned his lessons well. After being trapped by Crassus at Melia Ridge by a deadly trench filled with spikes, Spartacus decided to return favor by building his own. He could not help but revel in the shocked faces of the soldiers who fell into the trench, line by line to their deaths. The remaining ones were even more surprised when the rebels pulled up the ladders concealed in the sandy dirt and crossed over trench in order to hack and hew at the waiting legions.

Crassus grimaced in frustration as he saw the rebels successfully breaking through the front lines. He ordered the catapults be fired into the fighting masses. Caesar had tried to warn him that his own men were in harm’s way but the Praetor was not concerned with that. He wanted Spartacus to burn. He wanted all the rebels to die. He wanted everyone who had been responsible for the death of his son to perish. He watched as the flaming balls of fire descended and he called for his cavalry to cut down any rebel left standing.

Agron had successfully ducked the first round of blasts from the catapults and he bellowed to the fighters who followed him to press forward.  Before they did, another volley of flaming orbs was sent their way and they were forced to scatter. He heard the screams of those who had been engulfed in flames. To his horror, one of them was Lugo.

“LUGO!”

It was too late. The hulking German was sent to his knees from the flames as the Romans rushed in and stabbed him. Agron squeezed his eyes shut and rallied his surviving men to reform their line. As a soldier approached, he lifted the shield and ran the point of the blade through his eye. He saw Castus a few yards ahead dispatching a massive Roman with a fatal strike. He did not hear the horse approaching from the rear until…Agron called out his name but there was no time to react or retreat, the soldier on the horse swung his sword and a gaping slash appeared on his chest. He crashed to the ground and Agron rushed over to him. “No!” He choked out.

Castus gasped heavily as the pain at his chest seared. He saw Agron kneeling above him. “If only I had been you for but a day.” He said and then he died as Agron held him.

Spartacus was filled with rage and blood. He had beheaded two Romans with one sweeping stroke. The headless bodies had barely hit the ground before he searched for more Romans to kill. He zeroed in on the Praetor rushing forward on his horse. Well if the mighty Marcus Crassus wanted him, he was ready for him.

Gannicus had been worried that they would not make the battle in time. He and his camp had been stationed on the opposite bank of the Siler River away from the prying eyes of the legion. Once the sun had risen, he along with Saxa had driven his men hard on horseback. They were due to engage Crassus’ army from the rear. It was Spartacus’ last surprise. They had reached the last hill when he saw the catapults in the near distance. He spurned his horse to run faster with a firm squeeze at the horse’s sides with his thighs. He heard Saxa yell behind him and pointed to the left.  The rebel cavalry then split and surrounded the soldiers who manned the catapults.

Caught completely off guard, the Romans broke formation in an attempt to protect the weapons that the rebels had begun to seize. At Gannicus’ signal, they aimed the catapults straight at the Romans and began to fire. Seeing his men under a fresh attack, Caesar rounded his men together in order to ward them off. He saw Naevia fighting fiercely among the crowd and marched towards her. They began to fight to the death.

Crassus felt himself fly in slow motion to the dirt after Spartacus had knocked him off his horse. His breath left him and was immediately picked up and carried away from the thick of the conflict by his men. He felt the blood trickle down his temple and was livid. Spartacus was not to be denied though; he gave chase to the Crassus and his men. Agron saw Spartacus take off and ordered the rebels to hold the front line and not allow any Romans to pursue.

*****

Plannis had tired of chewing his nails. He was bored, distracted and hot. It was around mid-day and the sun beat upon him mercilessly. He hoped Murillo had found a nice, dark place to rest. He also hoped that Pandora had not. He was still reeling over the events of the night before. He had never thought that Pandora would turn on him, especially since she had never told him that he couldn’t go off on adventures with the others. He had only wanted to see Nasir again.

The girl shifted her sleeping baby to her other arm as she watched the boy brood near the rocks. She was surprised to see him considering how angry Pandora had been when she came to her in search of him. She had always been so calm and gentle before. She would ask how she was feeling and would rub her belly with her cold hand. But during that last visit, her eyes glowed and she snarled with impatience. She hurriedly agreed to pass the message on to the boy in order to get rid of her.

They caught one another’s eye then. Plannis finally made the first move and approached her.

“Will you tell her that you saw me?”

She bowed her head, “You know that I cannot lie to her.”

“I would not say anything to her if she were looking for you.” He argued.

“Yes you would.” She said frowning. “If I were you, I would leave before sundown.”

“I am not afraid.”

She laughed a little as she rocked the snoring babe, “You should be.”

*****

Naevia’s leg buckled and she covered the slash to her calf with her hand. Caesar snatched the sword from her hand and circled around her as if he were a wolf with captured prey. He bounced the hilt in his hand and drawled, “This sword does not belong to you, slave.” He then drove it deep into her shoulder. Her mouth filled with blood so she could not scream. Her last thoughts as life left her were of Crixus.

Gannicus had seen Naevia fall and shouted at Caesar. His comrades were falling dead all around him. Saxa had just died in his arms moments before after being run through by a Roman’s sword. Although her last words to him were in her native tongue, he knew in his heart what she had tried to tell him. The only woman who could ever match him was now gone. He had just witnessed the love of Crixus’ life killed. He needed to take Caesar out if it was the last thing he did. He screamed at him again and the Tribune squared his shoulders and gestured for the Celt to engage.

Meanwhile, Agron and his men continued to be pushed back towards the ridge. He looked over his shoulder to see if he could spot Spartacus. As another wave of soldiers came forward, he and the others were able to beat them back. An officer on horseback then bounded towards Agron. He stood his ground until the last minute and then jumped to the side while grabbing the man’s cloak. He managed to pull the centurion from the horse and smashed his face in with the edge of his shield. He grabbed the rearing horse by the reins and jumped on. He was frantic at that point. He had to find Spartacus. He directed another rebel to grab another riderless horse in order to follow him up the ridge where he last saw Spartacus heading towards.

He galloped up the ridge and as he reached the crest, he froze at the sight that awaited him. Spartacus skewered with three Roman spears with Marcus Crassus approaching, ready to cleave his head from his shoulders.


	16. The Final Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of many things and the start of others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story began well enough but it became increasingly more difficult as time went on. What was supposed to be a crazy vampire story turned into something much more deep and personal. I guess it is because of Agron and Nasir being the greatest OTP of all fucking time. It was truly labor of love. I hope you enjoyed it and I hope I didn't annoy Anne Rice fans with the appalling liberties taken with Pandora. I'm sure she's not a bad vampire at all.
> 
> By the way, those that lived, lived. Those that died, died and those that loved, loved always.

“Spartacus!” Agron screamed and spurned his horse forward. He leaned forward over the reins and barreled straight towards Crassus. He swung his shield and knocked the Praetor over so hard that he rolled head over heels down the other side of the ridge. He hopped off the horse and was about to attack the prone Roman when he heard his name being shouted. The rebels who had followed him managed to kill off the rest of Crassus’ guard and were supporting a gravely injured Spartacus.

“We must leave!” One of the rebels implored.

Agron took one last look at Crassus who was rolling around the ground dazed and made his decision. He grabbed Spartacus’ arm and began to lead him up the mountain. As they retreated, the final line of the rebels had been broken and they were quickly surrounded. Agron fretted over the fate of Gannicus and the others, but his priority was to find a safe place in order to tend to his leader’s wounds.

*****

It was late afternoon or so Laeta had guessed. A band of clouds had formed in the east and obscured the sun. A leaden feeling began to spread in her chest. If no allies appeared by day’s end, then they would possibly have to navigate through the terrain in the dark during a downpour. It was a prospect that she did not relish.

Sybill stood up suddenly and called out, “I hear something. I believe someone approaches!” The others gasped and began to retreat behind the rocks and crevices that lined their temporary camp. They waited until the saw Agron come into view carrying a limp body over his shoulders. He grunted and grimaced at with every step but he did not falter.

“Agron!” Laeta exclaimed as she came from behind the rock from where she was hiding.

“Find some cloth for his wounds Laeta.” Agron gasped.

“Oh no!” She cried as she saw who Agron was carrying.

“Quick, give me your bundles! Clear away these rocks so that we can lay him down.” Sybill told the others.

Plannis joined in with the others to clear a place on the ground for Spartacus. He had seen much death in his young life but he had never seen a man so injured who was still among the living. The rebel leader was scarred and bloody from the top of his head to the bottom of his boots.

Agron placed Spartacus as gently as he could upon the makeshift bed upon the ground. Spartacus’ eyes were closed and his breath was ragged. Laeta collapsed to her her knees and began to wipe away the blood and dirt from his face with a wet cloth. Her face was anguished as she softly whispered his name.

Sybill stood beside Agron who was gulping water down greedily from a water skin. “Were there no others who followed?”

He shook his head but did not look at her. Other than seeing the deaths of Lugo and Castus for himself, he had no idea what had happened to the others. Sybill began to cry.

“We will have to move soon.” He said. He called the other rebels who had climbed the mountain with him and told them to find whatever wood and twine they could find to make a portable pallet for Spartacus.

“He is gravely injured.” Laeta whispered. “I fear if we move him, it would hasten death.”

“If we do not leave before the Romans discover us, we will all face death.” Agron whispered back. He then knelt beside Spartacus. When he did, Spartacus’ eyes flew open.

“He is awake!” Sybill said.

Spartacus grabbed Agron’s hand. “We have made it to the mountains.” Agron told him.

“We have waited, as promised.” Laeta added.

“What of the others? Are they safe?” Spartacus mumbled.

“Pompey set upon them. Many were lost.” Agron answered. That round of bad news had been shared by the others who had followed him up the mountains. They had heard the Romans bragging about it during their battle.

“Then I suppose we must leave or we too will be discovered.” Laeta said.

Agron gestured to one of the rebel soldiers to help him lift Spartacus. The rebel leader groaned on pain and cried, “Stay hand!”

Agron implored, “We cannot stay here.”

“No, you cannot. Nor may I follow.” He replied.

“Spartacus…” Laeta began.

He blinked and shook his head slightly. “That is not my name. I shall finally hear it again, given voice by loving wife in greeting when this life is done.”

Agron felt the tears well up in his eyes. It was not happening; he could not lose his mentor, his brother, his friend. His hand was gripped tighter.

“Do not shed tears. There is no greater victory than to fall from this world a free man.” He told him.

Agron bowed his head then because he could no longer stop himself from crying. Everything had gone quiet and all was still except the clouds that moved quickly above them. They felt the light pelting of rain as it began to fall. The Bringer of Rain’s spirt then departed from them. His hand slipped from Agron’s and it was placed it gently upon his chest. He then leaned over and kissed his forehead.

It was finally over.

*****

His final resting place faced east so that the each new day’s sun would shine brightly against the shield with the red serpent painted on it. Agron did not know what possessed him to instruct the blacksmith to paint it on the thing. He would have never concluded that his battle shield would be placed at the head of the gravesite of the mightiest warrior the world had ever seen. Agron did not mind his parting from it. The battle for him was done. It was now time to complete the rest of the task which was to lead the remaining ex-slaves to safety past the mountains. It was what he wanted Agron to do in the first place.

As the rain stopped, the last bit of rock was placed at the base of the shield to hold it up and Agron noted a familiar face among the ones tending to the grave. “Plannis?” he exclaimed.

The boy nodded. “Agron.”

“What are you doing here?” He demanded.

“How did you manage to survive?” Plannis asked him.

“Answer me first.” Agron said.

“I was brought here because it was safe.” Plannis replied.

“Where are Murillo and Nasir?”

“Murillo is resting somewhere. I am to wait here for him when the sun sets. And Nasir has gone to the coast.”

Many questions rushed through Agron’s mind after the boy’s reply. He tried to sort them out so that he could receive the most informative answers possible.

“What has happened? Why did you separate?”

Plannis sounded evasive. “We decided not to return to Capua and Nasir wanted to leave the country.”

“So he has gone.” Agron said vaguely.

“I do not know when the ships sail, but he has probably left.”

Agron chewed the inside of his lip. “We are leaving this place. You need to come with us.”

Plannis was vehement. “No, I told you. I have to wait here for Murillo at sunset.”

“You may meet more than Murillo here if you stay on this mountain. Did you not hear? Pompey searches for us. None are safe until we pass through the mountains.”

“But Murillo…”

“If Murillo is as good as he thinks he is, he will be able to find you. Move. NOW.”

Plannis huffed and trudged away to join the rest of the refugees as they headed deeper into the mountains. It would take several weeks of traveling to reach the northern borders. Once there, the people could decide for themselves where they wanted to go afterwards: Gaul, Germania, or even Mesopotamia.

As Agron caught up with the boy, he looked up at him with loathing. “I could very well run off.” He pouted.

“Not without having food or a source of water and hours before sunset, you will not.” Agron replied.

Plannis conceded those points. “You still did not answer my question. How did you survive?”

Agron shrugged. “I cannot tell you because I do not know why I live while so many others perished.”

“Do you think that the Gods spared you for a purpose?”

Agron looked irritated, “Why would my purpose be more important than another's?”

Plannis thought Agron was merely being stupid at that point. “Maybe you were kept alive so that you could see Nasir again.”

Agron grew quiet. If their love was great enough to conquer death why were they not together? He thought. As deeply as he felt for Nasir, theirs was not a tale of legendary love. It was a relationship fraught with tragedy and misunderstandings.

“No,” he said simply. “That is not it.” He then glared at boy indicating that the discussion was over.

*****

Twilight settled upon the coast. Nasir had just finished feeding upon a drunken sailor who had made a wrong turn on his way to the brothel that was across the port. He had settled in an abandoned villa days before to wait for the arrival of ship heading towards Sardinia. He was still waiting but he had the time and coin. He tried to shake off the effects of the wine soaked blood he had drunk while settling on the bank to watch the docks. He did not mill around the nearby village because he was not interested in company. He was gripped with a melancholia that he could not seem to rid himself. He knew the battle had been fought and that many had been lost. He did not want to, but he had to add Agron to the number of people he knew more than likely had lost their lives. He allowed himself to feel the gamut of mortal emotions: the grief, the guilt and despair.

He could still smell the last remnants of rain as he watched the last of the storm clouds pass over him. They travelled over the blood soaked field where slaves under the command of the legion dragged bodies into a cavernous pit in order to be set on fire. They rolled over the Appian Way where crucified bodies lined the trail for nearly two hundred leagues. On two of those crosses hung the dead form of Gannicus and the dying one of Kore. They passed over the Thracian’s grave and the ex-slaves that marched in single file on a narrow trail towards the Alps. They obscured Pandora from sight as she fed upon the Roman scouts that pursued the rebels. Murillo flew among them as he searched for Plannis.

Agron finally gave the signal for his people to rest. He ordered everyone to be as quiet as possible and that no fires were to be lit. He wasn’t certain that they had gained enough distance between them and any pursuers. Once he had assigned guard duties, he collapsed on the ground in exhaustion. So much had happened that day. The rebel army was defeated and Spartacus’ death ached liked an open wound. But he had no time to grieve because he was on the run and he did not know when he would ever stop running.

He was about to drift off into an uneasy sleep when he was nudged awake by Plannis. The boy held in his hand some dried venison. He wanted to tell him that he was too tired to eat but then his stomach rumbled loudly. He took the meat without comment and ate it. He was about to ask for some water when Plannis turned his back to him and waved.

“What are you doing?” Agron asked.

“Telling Murillo where I am.” He replied.

Agron sat up suddenly and grabbed his dagger. His palms still ached so he held the knife loosely. He peered into the darkness and waited for lamina to appear.

“I would have been a bit more nervous had your weapon been bigger.” Murillo drawled as he floated towards them.

“Keep your distance!” Agron hissed.

“Gods, man.” Murillo ground out. “I am here to see how the boy fares. I have no interest in you or your rag tag bunch of followers.”

Agron looked skeptical. “So you say, but we possess the thing you want the most and that is blood.”

“Actually what I most want is to leave this place entirely. Things have become complicated and I need to make hasty retreat.” Murillo said.

“Where are we going to go?” Plannis asked.

The lamina did not answer. He just stroked the boy’s head gently. “Agron, I need to break words in private.”

Agron was alarmed. “What the fuck for?”

“What must I do to assure you that you will come to no harm with me? I only want to speak with you.” Murillo replied. There was an edge to the lamina’s tone that he had not heard before.

After a minute or so, Agron nodded and he walked away from the others indicating that Murillo was to follow.

“You stay here.” Murillo told Plannis.

Mortal and immortal faced each other near a large fissure embedded in the face of the mountain.

“What is so urgent?” Agron demanded.

“I have come to ask you something.”

“Me?”

Murillo sighed. “I want to ask if you will watch over Plannis and lead him to safety.”

“Is he not the familiar of that woman?”

“Pandora…”

“I care not what her name is. Is she not looking for him?”

Murillo crossed his arms. “She is and that is why he is in great danger.”

“And you want him to remain here, placing all of us in danger?”

Murillo nodded. “He will be safer with you than he would with me.”

“You need to explain what has happened. Tell me all and leave nothing out.” Agron exclaimed.

“I need more than a few hours to explain my history with Pandora.” Murillo sighed again. “In brief, she is angry because Plannis left with me when I went off to find Nasir. Our last meeting ended on a bad note and now she is hunting both of us.”

“You evade my questions again. What happened?”

“When she tried to take Plannis back with her, I killed her other progeny and injured her.”

Agron exhaled and began to pace. “Did Nasir have anything…”

Murillo shook his head. “He does not know what happened. Pandora cut ties with him weeks before. No, it is I who is the main target of her ire. She wants me dead. If Plannis remains me with me, she will kill him as well.”

“Do you not know what has happened? Our army was defeated. Spartacus is dead. We are running for our lives in advance of Crassus and Pompey. He is in as much danger with us as he is with you!” Agron argued.

“I believe as long as he is with you, he will be fine. You have a talent for survival, Agron. I am sure that you will do all you can for him.”

Agron yelled. “I have to lead thousands through the mountains. I cannot look after a child!”

“Plannis needs to be with his own kind. He should learn what it is like to be human. The life of the lamina is not for him. We do not deserve him.”

“Murillo…”

“I might see Nasir in future. Is there nothing else you want to tell him?”

Agron grimaced. “I will tell him myself. Now Plannis…”

“He will hold you to that.” Murillo remarked before he slipped away into the darkness.

“Murillo! Murillo!” Agron cried out, but the lamina had gone.

*****

The ship had finally arrived and Nasir was haggling with captain over the accommodations. The man insisted on seeing coin before he allowed Nasir to inspect the lower deck. After a while, he grew tired of the man’s obstinacy. He looked deep into his eyes and instructed to man to lead him on a tour of the ship. Slack-jawed and with a vacant look, the captain nodded and beckoned Nasir to follow him. When they reached the bow of the ship, Nasir spotted Murillo sitting near the sail post.

He could not help but grin. “I simply cannot get rid of you.”

Murillo said as he drew his robes closer to him. “Do not fret. I shall not tarry long. I have news.”

Nasir sent the captain away to stand on the other side of the ship.

“What have you heard?” He asked.

“It is not what I heard. It is what I have seen. Agron lives.”

Nasir drew in a breath. “I cannot believe it. Are you certain?”

“Oh yes. I saw him myself earlier tonight. I left Plannis with him.”

“Why?”

“Pandora is greatly displeased with me.”

“What did you do?”

“Other than always being a tremendous disappointment to her, I killed Phaedra.”

“Gods, Murillo…”

“And I threw a sword right through her breast.”

Nasir was in complete shock. “I do not understand. What possessed you to do that?”

“I wanted to be free from the debt I owed her. I wanted Plannis to be free to grow up and be a man. I wanted you to be free to live as you wished. We would forever have been subject to her whims and moods had we stayed. She always preached of choice, but look what she did when our choices ran counter to hers?”

Nasir was at a loss for words. “I did not know you felt as you did.” He finally managed.

“I did not forget your speech in the catacombs to us.” Murillo recalled. “You told us that you were a free being and would not be under the command of anyone.”

Nasir nodded. “I meant that and I do still.”

“It is interesting that Pandora sent me to teach you how to be a lamina, but you were the one who ended up teaching me, Nasir.”

“You surprise me, Murillo.”

The lamina gave a wry grin. “And now Plannis is with Agron traveling through the mountains. I asked him if there was anything else he wanted to say to you. He told me that he would tell you himself.”

Nasir turned away and looked out towards the sea.

“There is still time. You could go to him. They are traveling northwest.” Murillo said.

“No. I will go to Sardinia as planned. I am glad to know that Plannis is safe.” Nasir went to Murillo and held out his hand, “Gratitude brother.”

Murillo grasped it tightly. “Farewell. We may see one another someday.”

“I look forward to it.”

Murillo left him then once the other crew members were on their way back to the ship after having drinks at the tavern. Their layover was a short one and they were due back in Sardinia. They were going to be traveling back with a new passenger.

“Captain,” Nasir called out. “Show me the deck.”

*****

An anguished cry floated over the mountain base at dawn’s light. Agron awoke and searched around for the source. He saw a crowd of people running towards Sybill as she knelt over a prone figure. When Agron reached her, he saw that she was holding a wailing infant.

“What is it?”

“She is dead.” Sybill choked out through her own tears.

Agron gently touched the girl’s shoulder and pushed her on her back. She was young and blonde. He recognized her as the girl he and Spartacus had witnessed giving birth. Her eyes were glazed over and her skin had a bluish tint. He grabbed her chin and turned her head from one side to another. There were no bite marks on her neck.

He closed her lids and bowed his head. Plannis came up behind him. The boy’s face was impassive, but inwardly he celebrated Murillo’s last favor to him.

*****

His head beat with a dull ache as he sat in the meeting hall. It often did when the village elders and nobleman came together. Their meetings were often noisy, full of angry words and all the while never accomplishing much in his opinion. It was always the same argument: How to best hold off the Romans. He had more than his share of experience with that and he was tired of telling everyone the same fucking thing.

He was tired of many things. He was tired of stubborn old men who were stuck in the past. He was tired of weak young men who foolishly believed that they could negotiate with the Romans. He was tired of fighting and talk of fighting. He was tired of the never ending rain that caused the Rhine to swell and overflow its banks. He was so tired that he got up in the middle of the elder’s speech and marched right out of the hall. He heard voices hiss his name but he ignored them and stepped outside back into the rain.

“Plannis!” he shouted. The boy said that he would wait for him but he was nowhere to be found. He wrapped his fur cloak tight around him and bent his slightly as he kept the rain from falling into his eyes. “Plannis!” he yelled again. “Where the fuck is he?” He was starting to get annoyed because he was getting soaked.

There was a sloshing sound to his right which was slightly muffled due to the pounding rain. He looked over and saw a tall, brown haired adolescent bounding towards him. When he reached him, he was nearly breathless and very muddy. “You are finished already?” The youth panted out.

“They are not, but I am. Let us go home before we are caught in the mire.” He replied. They headed towards a couple of horses that were tied to a row of sheltered posts.

“Where were you? I thought you were instructed to stay by the door.” He pressed. “Could you have been possibly distracted by one of Kruger’s daughters?”

Plannis’ face turned scarlet but he did not answer.

“I suppose I need not have asked since the answer is all over your face!” He guffawed.

Plannis looked chagrined. “You mock me but mark my words; I mean to make Ana my wife.”

He feigned a look of shock. “Well then, I shall prepare your one goat and single chicken as payment on her dowry.” He started to laugh again as the boy pouted. In fact, he refused to speak to him until they reached their cottage at the top of the hill.

Later on as they sat down at their table to eat, Plannis still looked dour.

“Are you still angry over my jest?” He asked him.

Plannis shook his head. “It is not a jest if it is true. Kruger will never see me as good enough for his daughter. I have no title, no land. I know no trade and I am not skilled in any art. All I know how to do is fight, Agron.”

Agron put down his spoon. “There is no shame or disgrace in being a warrior. You have risked your life many times to protect this village and the people. And if Krueger does not appreciate that, then fuck him.”

Plannis sighed. “He wants his daughters to marry noblemen…”

Agron interrupted. “Who wants to be a fucking useless nobleman who sits on his ass all day while real men do the work? Tell me, does this Ana love you?”

Plannis’ face brightened immediately. “Yes, at least I believe it so.”

Agron blinked slowly. “Has she told you?”

“She told me she wants to forever be by my side. I told her that my heart will never beat for another.” Plannis said dreamily.

Agron started at that last statement. He had not heard it in years, not since he said it to Plannis years ago in Lugo’s tent.

“If you think it will help, I will speak with Krueger. I am acquainted with the man.” He said finally.

“Would you? Will you tell him how much I love her? And tell him that I would never leave her or hurt her?” Plannis stammered.

Agron held up his hand, “Enough, enough. I will tell him that you two hold great affection for another. But Plannis, you have much to learn about love. You will hurt one another, even if you do not mean to. You may even have to leave her one day. Love is not simply saying the words. It takes work and sacrifice. And even then, things do not always turn out the way you want.”

Plannis sat back and frowned at him. “Then my effort will be for naught?”

Agron rubbed his forehead. “That is not what I said. If your feelings are true, then pursue them. A man who finds that one true love is very fortunate. Regret is much harder to live with than a mistake.”

“Do you still think about him?”

Agron sighed, “Every day.”

 

*****

After their meal, Plannis headed out to the barns to feed and water the animals for the evening. Their house sat atop an expansive hill and Agron had acquired several hundred acres that surrounded it. He was no farmer, so he rented tracts of land to several tenants. He also owned horses, goats and pigs which shared space with Plannis’ chicken which hadn’t laid a single egg since its birth. While Plannis chased and caught the bird and looked at its underside again to make sure it was truly a female, he thought he heard a noise outside the door.

He dropped the bird and pulled out the dagger that always hung from his belt. He walked to the barn door and opened it slowly. It had finally stopped raining and the night sky was clear and a bright, full moon hung low in the sky. He checked right outside the door and the path that led to the back of the house. When he did not see anything, he stepped out carefully, avoiding the numerous puddles that covered the ground. It was then that he felt it. He had not felt a presence like that in years.

His voice shook. “Who is there?”  He wondered if she had finally found him. He gripped his dagger tightly and called out again. “I know someone is out there.”

“Peace Plannis, it is I.”

He whirled around and saw the hooded figure behind him.

“Nasir?”

*****

Agron flexed his tingling hand several times. Even though he eventually gained the full use of his hands, he was still subjected to bouts of numbness and pain. He would have to soak them in some heated water before he retired, he reminded himself. He remembered that he would have to ask Plannis where the bowl was. He could never remember where he put things. The house always seemed too big for him, things always seemed to be misplaced or lost.

He did not look up from his chair in front of his hearth when he heard the back door open. He did not pay attention when he heard the footsteps approach behind him. A new wave of pain had hit his hand, and he grunted softly in discomfort. “While you are up, find that brass bowl and fill it with water. I need to soak my hands again.”

“Agron-“

“Oh, and get the oil that old hawker sold me. It seems to help a bit.”

“Agron, he is here.”

He scowled and turned around finally. What he saw made his mouth drop in shock. Nasir was standing before him. He stood up slowly, taking him in. He had not changed at all.

“How can this be?”

“Hello Agron.” Nasir said quietly.

“What are you doing here?”

Nasir lowered his head. “I had long wanted to see you. I have come merely to see how you fare.”

Agron was speechless. He had also longed to see Nasir but he never figured that he would find him. When Agron did not respond, Nasir turned to Plannis. “And look at you! You have grown into quite a man, Plannis.”

“Gratitude, Nasir. I have thought of you often.”

Agron broke in. “Will you stay?”

Nasir and Plannis looked at him in surprise. Plannis had not seen Agron express so much emotion in many years. Tears were flooding his eyes and his mouth trembled.

Nasir stepped to him and brought his hand to his cheek. “Yes, I will stay as long as you will it.” He took in his love’s face. The past eight years had been surprisingly kind to Agron. He still maintained his warrior’s shape and the only signs of age were deepening lines around his eyes.

Agron leaned his face into the warm hand at his cheek. During the years, he had taken a lover or two but he had never been filled, never in the way that Nasir had filled him.

*****

His hand gently stroked Nasir’s smooth back. He soon replaced his hand with his lips as he kissed his way down the spine. With his knees, he spread Nasir’s thighs apart while he made his way back up to his neck. He nibbled and sucked and he felt Nasir roll his hips under his. His cock was erect and leaking. He grasped the gyrating hips and placed the tip of his cock at Nair’s opening. With a gentle thrust, he slid in and gasped. The tightness and the heat threatened to take him over the edge, so he stilled himself.

Nasir buried his face into the bed, drew his knees up and pushed against Agron. He needed to him to move. He wanted to feel every single inch of him. Agron eventually obliged and begin to pump. Slowly at first, but the pace begin to quicken quite rapidly. He moaned deeply as he felt the muscles contract around his cock. The feeling was unbelievable. He threw his head back and thrust harder and harder until a wave of pleasure hit him with such a force that he nearly fell. He could hear Nasir grunt loudly as his own climax gripped him. He leaned forward, burying his face in Nasir’s beautiful black hair. Before he knew it, another orgasm seized him and he wrapped his arms around his lover. He did not let go until it was over.

It was no longer strange to him to not hear a heartbeat reverberating in Nasir’s chest. The flawless skin was not off-putting. The near golden eyes did not make him recoil. He sighed and nestled closer to him while trying to keep his eyes open.

“You can sleep a while. I promise to wake you before I leave.” Nasir said.

Agron said, “There is so much we need speak about. I do not want to waste time.”

“Agron, we have time now. I will return the next night and the night after that.”

He sat up and looked down at Nasir. “Do you promise?”

Nasir smiled. “Yes, I promise.”

*****

The next night, Plannis and Agron waited for Nasir to return. Agron had spent the day instructing the woman who came to clean the house on occasion to make the place spotless. He then travelled back into the village to speak with Kruger on behalf of Plannis. Their discussion did not go well. Agron found the man irascible and unpleasant. He was tempted to tell the man to eat the biggest pile of shit he could find, but he restrained himself. It seemed the man would not consider a young, landless, sword for hire an appropriate husband for his daughter. When he returned, he told Plannis that he had not been successful but he had not been deterred. He never imagined himself as a matchmaker, but he loved the boy and had cared for him for years. Plannis’ happiness meant a great deal to him.

While Plannis glumly finished his supper, the back door opened and Nasir entered the house. Agron made it a point to not inquire as to how Nasir fed. Nasir had no intention of broaching the subject. He was a lamina, and had been for years. He killed and drank the blood of his victims in order to survive. He felt no guilt. He grinned widely when he saw Plannis and Agron sitting at the table waiting for him.

Plannis gestured to the bench opposite him, “Please sit.”

“Gratitude,” He sat down and Agron who was sitting nearest to him took his hand.

“We did not break many words the night before. I am sure you two have many questions for me. Why not ask them now?”

Agron looked at Plannis and nodded, “You first.”

“Have you heard from Murillo?”

Nasir shook his head. “I have not. There was news among the lamina years back that he had been captured by some belonging to the coven in Rome. And because of the war and my association with Murillo, I could not go and find out for myself.”

“What of that woman?” Agron asked.

Nasir grimaced. “I have not seen her since I left Capua all those years ago. I have found in my travels that she is not liked or well-regarded among many of our kind. It was difficult for me to establish relationships with others after they discovered who my maker was. It is interesting, she had once told me that bond between maker and progeny was considered to be very important. That was not case with me.”

“You have no clue as to where she is?  It could mean that Plannis is still in danger.” Agron said.

“I did hear that she returned to Rome so I cannot help but think she was behind Murillo’s capture. If that is the case, then she and her maker have probably reunited.” Nasir said grimly.

Agron then asked, “Where did you go after you left the camp? Where have you been?”

Nasir spread his hands. “I have been many places, Sardinia, Gaul, and Mesopotamia. I even traveled to Assyria in an attempt to find out what happened to rest of my family.” He stopped suddenly. He rarely thought of his fruitless trip to his homeland. “I had always planned to come to Germania eventually.” Agron squeezed his hand.

“How did you find us?” Plannis inquired.

Nasir’s smiled. “After so many nights of hearing Agron talk of his homeland and its beauty, it was not very difficult. This is the place he described as where he loved to have lived if he ever had opportunity to return. Besides, we have always been able to find one another.”

“And it was time for you to return.” Agron said.

“Yes, I believe so.”

*****

Agron nearly ripped a hole in bed when Nasir gently bit his nipple with his final thrust. His seed spilled hotly over his stomach, as he shuddered.

“Gods,” he panted while Nasir wiped away the semen with a cloth. The scent of sex and spice hung heavy in the air and Nasir breathed in deeply, loving it. He had not engaged in pleasures of the flesh in a very long time and he missed it. He and Agron had always been sexually compatible, even when they disagreed on everything else.

He settled beside Agron and ran his hand through his short hair. Agron had eschewed the dreaded locks of his tribesmen after his return. He was no longer that man.

“I could not help but notice that Plannis did not look happy. Has my return disturbed him?”

Agron wrapped his arms around him. “No, it is not you. Plannis is in love and wants to marry. The problem is that the father objects.”

Nasir murmured, “Hmmm… I remember when all Plannis wanted to be was a lamina.”

Agron said, “That was years ago. He has lived among my people and has been fully accepted by them. He wants to remain here.”

“I am very glad to hear that. And what do you want, Agron?”

“What are you asking me?”

“Are you happy…here?”

Agron sighed. “I have felt lost even among my people at times. I agonized every day if I was teaching Plannis the right way. I was lonely in this enormous house. But am I happy? I am now. What of you?”

Nasir sat up and his loose hair fell over his shoulders. “The years have taken away my capacity to think that way; to be happy or be sad. There are times when I feel great pleasure and times when I do not. Right now, I am experiencing some of the greatest pleasure I have known.”

Agron pursed his lips, “But you will want to leave eventually.”

“I will leave when you will it. I have travelled throughout the empire and beyond but my place is with you.”

“I am tired though, Nasir. I am so tired of this place. But I fear for Plannis. What of his future?”

“His future is boundless. He can go anywhere he wants. He can be anything he wants to be. You gave him that.”

Agron shifted a bit, “Actually Murillo did. Do you want to know if I want to become a lamina?”

Nasir glared at him. “You had made yourself clear; I thought that you did not want to become a lamina. Has that changed?”

Agron stared at the ceiling. “I do not think I will be truly free as a mortal. Even here, we are in the grasp of Rome. At any time, the legion could march in and overrun us. There would be little to stop them, no matter how much my countrymen like to boast. I am haunted. I can hear Spartacus in my thoughts and I always dream of seeing him die in front of me. I am the only one of our group that survived. Naevia, Saxa, Lugo and Castus were killed in battle and Gannicus was crucified as I found out later. Pompey ambushed the refugees we left at camp. Of the survivors who fled to the mountains with us, very few made through. Laeta died of illness and then Sybill. I cannot help but feel that I failed him.”

“Agron, enough,” Nasir said. He took his lover’s hands in his own. “If you want to leave, we will leave. If you feel you must stay, then that is what we will do but for now, sleep. I will be here until the morning.”

*****

Plannis was in the barn brushing down his horse when Agron entered. Plannis did not greet him for he was deep within his own thoughts. Agron waited for a few minutes, and then cleared his throat. The boy jumped and then looked apologetic. “I did not hear you enter.”

“You look as if you are deep in thought.” Agron said.

“I am.”

“Share them with me?”

“You know what they are, I am afraid.”

“If you were able to acquire some land and a fair bit of coin, what then?” Agron asked.

Plannis looked a bit perplexed. “What is your meaning? I have none of those things.”

“You do not have them now, but if you did.” Agron insisted. “What would you do?”

“I would ask Ana to be my wife.” Plannis replied.

“And then?”

“We would have a house and raise a family.” Plannis said smiling.

Agron looked around the well-tended barn and the healthy animals. “You would want to stay here in the village.”

“Yes of course. It is my home. My German is excellent now.” Plannis joked.

Agron nodded. “It is.”

“Agron, what is going on?”

“I will tell you later. Make sure you go for a ride. It is a beautiful day.”

It was a beautiful day. The sun reflected off the glistening dew of the grass. He can sense the slight bit of warmth in the air as Spring approached. He rode back into the village with a clear sense of purpose.

*****

When he got back home, he called Plannis into the main room and told him to sit. The boy looked slightly nervous. Agron never told him to sit down when he talked to him unless he was delivering ill news.

“What has happened?” He demanded as he sat in beside Agron.

“I have secured your future, Plannis. From this day forth, I declare you my heir. You are entitled to all the land in my possession, all the animals, all the income from my tenants and all the coin I own. It is all yours.”

Plannis gaped at him. “I do not know what to say.”

“You need not say anything. You are like my son and I want the best for you. I have shared this information with Kruger. Knowing that he has no sons of his own, I figured that he would be more accepting of a son in law that could provide heirs with land and coin.”

“Do you mean that he will allow me to marry Ana?” Plannis asked.

“It looks that way. Appealing to his greed seems to have made him more amenable to your request.” Agron replied ruefully.

Plannis jumped up from his and grasped his floppy, brown curls. “I cannot believe it!”

“Believe it,” Agron stressed. “I have left documents for you. One thing I did learn from the Romans is that nothing is solid without a document.” He then pointed at the youngster. “Those documents are for you, all this land, everything, belongs to you and your heirs, no one else. Understand?”

Plannis nodded. He then rushed to Agron and embraced him, “Gratitude for everything.”

Agron patted his back.

After Plannis released him, he looked at Agron carefully. “Why did you do this?”

“It was what I wanted.”

“You are going to leave with Nasir.”

“Plannis…”

“It is fine. I understand.”

Agron stood. “I would not leave you if I did not think that you could not care for yourself.”

“I know.”

“And since you wanted to stay here, I should give you whatever you needed.”

Tears began to fall down the boy’s cheeks. “I will miss you more than you will ever know.”

“And I you.”

Night had come and Agron waited. Nasir appeared at the back path and stopped.

“What have you done?”

“I have put things in order. Plannis is set for his future and I am ready to leave.”

“Is this what you want?”

“It is.”

Nasir held out his hand and Agron took it, and they walked the path together.

 


End file.
